


Siphoning

by GracieLovesYou



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: And Failing Miserably, Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author is a Technoblade Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), Character Death, Clay | Dream Being a Jerk (Video Blogging RPF), Creeper Hybrid Sam | Awesamdude, Dream Has No Sense of Personal Space, Dream Uses the Favor, Feeding, Flashbacks, Gen, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Lore - Freeform, Manipulation, Non-Chronological, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Parental Puffy, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sheep Hybrid Cara | CaptainPuffy, Starvation, Technoblade Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Three Canon Lives style, author is desperately trying to construct a coherent backstory, just let me have my cake and eat it too, mentions of cannibalism, no beta we die like schlatt, not involving any canon characters, not technically evil dream but definitely antagonist dream, puffy's backstory is just completely baseless, sam is in a difficult place rn, techno's backstory is some liberally applied headcanon, technoblade is a tsundere for gold, the sleepy bois relationship is complicated okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29786367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GracieLovesYou/pseuds/GracieLovesYou
Summary: Dream was a creative person.Spry, quick-thinking and strong, sure, but creativity was the platform all of that rested on. Speed and strength were nothing when tied to predictability.And Dream was the furthest thing from predictable.The thing about experimentation was that success was extraordinarily rare. Even ideas that seemed reasonable were nearly impossible to put into practice without guidelines, a recipe written by thousands of much older souls, all kind enough to share their discoveries. With so many facets of knowledge, it was a wonder how anyone knew where to start.A potion? A redstone mechanism?An enchantment.
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy & Clay | Dream, Cara | CaptainPuffy & Sam | Awesamdude, Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 113
Kudos: 424





	1. The Gods were Taciturn; They Left a Sound Here on this Earth and Waned

**Author's Note:**

> Do I have an unfinished fic that's been sitting untouched for multiple months? Perhaps. Was I struck against my will by a sudden MCYT plot bunny? Maybe. Am I ashamed of myself? Assuredly.
> 
> (I wouldn't consider this romantic Dreamnoblade, but it gets pretty weirdchamp so I'm tagging it anyways just to be sure the anti-shippers don't stumble across this. You can still read it as romantic if you want to, though.)
> 
> ((CHARACTERS, NOT CONTENT CREATORS! I don't know where the ethical fanfic line should be drawn, but I'm not willing to cross the RPF line. That's just my personal opinion, and I hope that everyone respects that.))
> 
> I'm not entirely sure where the plot is going here. I'll probably think of something. Maybe.

Technoblade did not enjoy the burden of owing.

Heavy armour, he could carry. Weapons he wielded like his own limbs. His crown was one weight he'd held onto since forever, like a promise, a reminder.

But a favour, while intangible, was the heaviest weight of all.

He'd tried to shed it. When Dream had come searching for Tommy, only the favour would elicit honesty. When he and his ally at the time had confronted Dream in front of a Nether Portal, Techno had stated it loud and clear: an offer to Dream as much as it was a warning to Tommy. When he and Dream had allied to take L'Manburg's last life, he'd shoved the favour front and centre only for Dream to completely sidestep it.

Technoblade was strong. That favour was a weakness. It remained ominously in the air, staring back at him around every corner, hid underneath the packed snow of his footprints.

It was the reason Dream's presence put him on edge. Not to say the presence of _anyone_ wouldn't put him on edge, but Dream in particular ignited an anxious spark that was difficult to quench. Every second they spoke was an opportunity for Dream to cash in, or to formulate some new way to make use of his precious favour. The man was biding his time, and he knew that Techno was aware of it.

Dream wore a mask. That aesthetic quirk might have put at ease someone like Ranboo - who hated direct eye contact and facial expressions more than taking a dive in Artic waters with no armour - but to just about everyone else, it was a sign of distrust. A wall between actions and intent. Techno didn't know what to think.

He didn't find faces comforting. Faces tended to be enemies, and if they were close enough to be distinguishable, they were the faces of enemies within stabbing range. Not comforting, but useful if one knew how to read them, to follow the line of sight and determine where the next blow was landing, which way they'd dodge. Faces were not comforting, and their absence was not alarming, but a mask was a face with something worth hiding.

Techno let his lack of expression do the hiding for him. Half-piglin expressions were hard enough to read when they _weren't_ being actively suppressed. He stared at Dream with tired eyes, betraying nothing in return for the nothing Dream's mask offered.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Dream asked, all casual, like he hadn't travelled thousands of blocks just to arrive at one of the only buildings around for miles. Like an old friend.

(Except Techno had exactly one old friend, and he didn't need an invitation.)

Techno said nothing, just stepped out of the doorway. Maybe without a verbal invitation, Dream wouldn't be able to enter. Like a vampire.

Dream crossed the threshhold easily, and Techno couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that he didn't spontaneously combust. He supposed it was too much to wish for.

"So," Dream whistled, glancing around the interior like he hadn't been here before, hands in his pockets, axe on his back and sword at his waist, "L'Manburg's gone for good this time. Or was it Manburg? I never remember. Point is, you and me make a good team."

Technoblade studied him carefully, waiting for the sudden pounce. "You and I."

Dream made a quizzical noise, turning entirely too quickly to face Techno, who most definitely did not flinch.

" _You and I,_ are both subjects of the sentence," he explained. " _You and I_ make a good team."

 _Grammar pog!_ some part of his mind cheered amidst the sea of voices chanting solely about Dream's presence, most of them reminding him over and over and _over_ about that favour he was all too aware of.

Dream quirked his head in acceptance. "Right, right. My bad." He continued to idle, extraordinarily interested in the architectual details all around them. He leaned against one of the chests.

"Not gonna lie, Dream, this is pretty awkward. Why are you here?" Technoblade questioned. They both knew there was a reason. The fact that Dream wasn't cutting to the chase... It was more than annoying. It was unnerving.

"I'm not allowed to pay my friends visits?" Dream asked, sounding the furthest thing from genuinely hurt.

Technoblade allowed some irritation to show on his face, and some more to seep into his voice. "We're not friends. I think we've established that."

"That's true," Dream acquiesced, "but then again - well, we'd established that you had only six withers worth of skulls, and that turned out to be quite the understatement, didn't it?"

"We never promised complete honesty, Dream," Technoblade replied, unreasonably defensive. Maybe Dream would take the bait. Maybe he'd demand honesty. Techno could work with that. He didn't need to lie to deceive. All war was deception. "You'd have to _ask_ for that."

Dream didn't take it. "Also true," he shrugged the proposition off, "but I think I can handle a few secrets between allies. It's not like I was totally honest with you."

Ominous. Techno's wariness only grew. He casually directed the conversation upstairs, where he could nonchalantly get some potions going, hopefully without drawing too much attention to the preparation. "You still haven't answered my question."

"You and Phil really impressed me, Techno," Dream responded, once again dodging. "Don't get me wrong, I know full well how strong you are - both of you - but it's a whole different thing to see so much in action. It almost makes me wish I had been on the ground to see it all up close."

"Actually, you probably had a better view of things from above. That's just logic."

"How many people were you up against? Twenty? Thirty? Tell me, did you even come close to dying?"

 _Yes,_ Techno thought instantly, _once_. He shrugged. "I don't remember." _Technoblade never dies!_ a hundred voices in the back of his head reminded him. "What are you doing here?" he demanded for the third time.

Dream just stared back at him. Tilted his head at the brewing stands. It was impossible to tell where his eyes were exactly.

"Are you just here to envy the fact that I have a house and you don't?"

"You're right Techno," Dream replied, and for a brief, bizarre moment Technoblade expected some dramatic spiel about the perils of homelessness, "we're not friends. People like us, we don't really have friends. The closest you've got is Phil, and that's... _tenuous_ , at best."

 _What's tenuous?_ a voice asked. _How dare he imply Dadza is not a friend!_ another screeched. "Sure," Techno prompted.

"It's only natural we'd be unable to trust each other. We're the only real threats around here. People like Tommy, Tubbo, Wilbur - they're just annoyances, in the long run."

For some reason, Techno wanted to get defensive. He'd worked with those people. He'd fought alongside them. The voices were getting more and more antsy with every word Dream spilled, urging Techno to go for the throat. Instead, he settled for a scowl. "Get to the point."

"I know you've been trying to shake off that favour you owe me," Dream continued, going straight for Techno's resolve. "You hate to be stuck at a disadvantage, right?"

Technoblade went quiet, hoping for Dream to continue. The man didn't. He was forced to reply. _Play dumb!_ his mind suggested. "Favour?" _Not that dumb!_ "Oh right, I guess I do owe you a favour, or something. Slipped my mind."

The green-hooded man chuckled, casually picking up a strength potion straight out of Technoblade's brewing stand. "I just wanted you to know that I'm here on peaceful terms, okay? That's all I'm saying."

"You know, Dream, you're pretty exceptional at not getting to the point." 

"I'm pretty exceptional at a lot of things."

Techno rolled his eyes at the shameless boasting, fumbling through his cloak pockets for something to fill his stomach. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

That earned another chuckle. Techno's fists clenched behind his back. No reason to get violent just yet. "I had a question to ask," he revealed, _finally_. "Humour me?"

"Ask," Technoblade demanded, munching on a golden carrot. He'd decide whether it was worth answering after hearing it.

"That crown of yours - why do you wear it?"

 _What?_ Techno couldn't hide the bewilderment on his face. "That's it?"

"I mean, I thought it was an intimidation thing, like my mask is for me - " Techno filed away that little tidbit, " - but I realised you can't even see it half the time, because you're always wearing a helmet."

"I don't like to take my armour off," Techno said, because that much was obvious. "Pointless vulnerability."

"Fair. So why the crown?"

Technoblade ruffled his snout, trying to drum up a response. The truth felt dangerous. Even something vaguely resembling the truth had the potential to give too much information. A lie? A flat refusal?

"Oh, I've got it! It's because you're a piglin, right?"

" _Half_ -piglin," he corrected instinctively. "I've got some human in me, too."

"Sure, sure. That's it though, right? It's some piglin instinct telling you to wear gold?"

Techno looked away. Dream had pretty much hit the mark.

"But you can't wear gold armour because it's weak as wood, so you hide some gold underneath your netherite instead. I'm right, aren't I?"

Technoblade let out a huff between his small tusks.

"That's actually adorable," Dream laughed. "Is that why you like golden carrots so much?"

"Did you really just come here to make fun of me?" Techno snapped, feeling flustered, while the voices giggled the word, _tsundereblade,_ through his brain. "C'mon man, don't pick apart my biology like that."

"Sorry, sorry, I just - I mean, what'd happen if I took your crown right now?"

"I'd murder you," Techno answered, and he _meant it_.

"Even if I used that favour?" Dream asked, and Technoblade froze.

The voices quieted down, as if giving him room to think. Too much room. So much room he didn't know what to do with it. "You what?"

"I kinda wanna try it on," Dream muttered.

"You wouldn't waste your favour like that," Techno reasoned.

Dream thought for a moment and then shrugged. "You're right, there's a lot more useful things I could do with it."

Shit, no, wait - was Dream actually trying to cash in? It had to be a trap somehow. No way he was this stupid. "Hold on - "

Another damn chuckle sounded from behind that unreadable mask. "I told you, Technoblade, I'm here on peaceful terms," Dream assured, "and as part of that, I'm extending an olive branch. No more favour. No more anticipation. We go back to equal ground. I just wanna give your crown a spin. I'll give it right back!"

 _Favour poggggggg!_ "You can't be serious."

Dream raised his hands placatingly, as though trying to tame a wild boar, which...he kind of was. "I don't want any tension with you, Techno. I don't care about being the _most powerful_ person in this world. You and I, fighting? It'd make a spectacle, but that's not the kind of chaos I care about."

" _You and me_ ," Techno grumbled. "That time, they were objects, not subjects."

"We don't have to be friends," Dream promised, "but I don't want us to be enemies, either."

This was a trap. This _had_ to be a trap somehow. _Dreamnoblade pog. Dream redemption arc? No more favour!_ "You really just want to wear my crown?"

Dream nodded.

"For how long?"

"Let's say, one minute. Then I'll give it right back."

"And then I won't owe you _anything_?"

"Clean slate," he swore.

 _It's a trap!_ someone screamed. _Quick, before he changes his mind!_ someone else urged.

Technoblade lifted his helmet, and carefully slipped the crown out from underneath. He pulled the helmet straight back onto his head, not willing to leave that area vulnerable. He watched Dream with caution, keeping an eye out for sudden movements, even as his vision started to blur from the loss. Holding the crown in his hands, it just looked so _shiny_.

The desire to keep hold of it began to drown out the voices.

Everything else tinted towards the colour of useless netherrack. Techno let go with one hand and clutched the golden apples and carrots in his pocket, focusing on the knowledge that he was not deprived of gold. He couldn't wear it, but it was enough. Enough for one full minute.

He handed the crown to Dream, eyes trained solely on the precious metal, like a shining, irresistable beacon.

Dream removed his own helmet without a care for exposed vulnerabilities, and dropped the crown onto his head. Then, presumably realising his pockets were full, he tossed something out to make room for his helmet.

Technoblade probably wouldn't have given the litter a second thought, in his current state.

But his eyes found gold.

He picked the shimmering boots up without hesitation.

This was a trap, he knew.

Dream had planned this. Dream had known how Techno would react to gold without that crown protecting him from his own instincts. Just like Ranboo's tendency to shift blocks seemingly at random and avoid eye contact at all costs; just like Phil's love for high altitudes and open spaces; just like a dumb, mindless piglin following golen ingots into a pit.

The human saw the glow of enchantment, read the subtle runes, the shapes which meant _Unbreaking,_ and _Mending_ , and _Curse of Binding_. The human saw the trap springing, the cage falling out of the sky.

The piglin kicked off its silly netherite boots and donned the beautiful golden ones.

And stumbled immediately.

Something caught his arm, but Techno could only focus on the golden boots. And the crown. He stared at the person wearing it, as their mouth moved and their lips formed words that he couldn't make out. Human words. Far too distant for the piglin to comprehend. His hands were pulled upward, one left to rest on an armoured shoulder, the other clasped out to the side. Something touched his side, and despite the small part of him that wanted to tear away, he was too weak and too encapsulated by the crown.

(It was the shape of partnered dancers, one leading and one left to follow.)

And then suddenly, the crown was back on his head, and their positions remained unchanged. Techno glared up at Dream's mask with soulfire in his eyes. "What did you do?"

He tried to ask, tried to sound intimidating, furious, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper, earning one more chuckle from the smug _bastard_.

"Did you know your pupils dilate when you're in that state?" Dream asked. "You must really like gold, huh?"

"You tricked me," Technoblade spat, and this time, at least, it was somewhat intelligible, if slurred - more of a weak growl than words. His arms were weak, too fatigued to even think about swinging a sword or a pickaxe. His legs felt so heavy that he might collapse if Dream weren't supporting his weight. Black edges crawled inward on his vision.

"But I kept my promise, didn't I? You got your special crown back. In fact, it's only been thirty seconds!"

Technoblade tried to move, but all his aching muscles accomplished was slumping further into Dream's grasp.

"It's not _my_ fault you picked up those boots."

Technoblade began to slip away, even as the voices rallied. They sounded like running water. "Y-you...bastard..."

"I was just experimenting with some original enchantments, you know how it is."

Technoblade struggled to keep his eyes open. He prayed for insomnia to come drag him out of the inviting arms of sleep, but no such angel fell for him. He prayed for Phil to arrive at just the right time, or Ranboo to sleepwalk inside, or even _Tommy_ -

"I named this one _Siphoning_."

Consciousness slipped away.


	2. When the Childish, Crying Night Sky was Moved to Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technoblade wakes up.
> 
> It takes a while.

Philza had asked Technoblade exactly once about what his life was like in the time before they met.

The first few years of their companionship, Technoblade was still just a piglet, and human speech was not natural to him. Every day since, Phil understood that asking would not warrant answers. Techno found that reasonable - he didn't interrogate Phil's history, after all.

Phil wasn't entirely content with the untold story. Technoblade could see it in the lines of his face every time they encountered a quirk of Techno's leaves and branches that might have gone a long way to trace all the way down to his roots. He saw Philza calculating. He betrayed no further information. He was a stoic oak, undistrubed by the wind.

(Technoblade was fairly certain he had been born in the Nether. He knew this, because traversing through the hellscape, while undeniably full of danger and discomfort, felt disgustingly like home; because he still had some understanding of the animalistic grunts passed between piglins; because _somehow_ , despite his current dietary prefences, Technoblade could perfectly envision the taste of charred pork, a relic from a time when all available was hoglin meat.)

Phil had asked only once.

The thing about childhood was that it was incredibly difficult to remember accurately - the brain was not fully equipped for the formation of long-term memories. This was what Technoblade told himself any time the issue was pressed. The only reason his memories dated as far back as Philza was because he had the old man's perspective filling in the gaps. Everything previous to that was just a haze of red and gold.

(And a splash of purple.)

He remembered a single golden ingot, clutched tightly to his chest like his whole life resided in it. He'd tried to bite off Phil's hand, but his tusks were half the size of a normal piglin his age and far too blunt to be anything other than an annoyance. Phil hadn't even been reaching for the gold - he'd been draping his cloak around the piglet hybrid. Technoblade remembered the warmth, remembered how the rest of the world seemed so unnaturally cold.

(He didn't remember how early it was that he had seen the scars on Phil's back. His cloak always did a good job of covering them. He'd described it to Techno later, how he'd feared what the smaller hybrid would think, seeing a bird without wings. He'd been afraid of disgusting him, or even scaring him. Technoblade wondered why he hadn't even noticed.)

Phil had described him as _quaking_. He'd expected that strange little piglin to turn undead on the spot. He'd heard all kinds of tales explaining why piglins never left their homes, one being that anything less than burning hellfire was cold enough to rot their flesh and leave them mindless husks, divorced from the self.

These stories were true. Technoblade's human lineage kept him tied to his identity.

He and Techno were too close in age to be father and son, and too distant to be brothers just yet. They were acquaintaces. Allies. Two hybrid children keeping each other alive in a violent world.

Phil had a proclivity for picking up children. There was a vehemence for protecting those younger than him that Techno would have interrogated if he hadn't been actively brushing off attempts to discuss his own past. Phil only asked once, but he did raise the topic every now and then.

(The thing was, by the time the next kid came home hugging Phil's leg, Technoblade was old enough to handle himself. It didn't matter that Wilbur was just about the same age as him; he'd overstayed his welcome. He didn't bother leaving a note. There was nothing much to say.)

It was a few years before he met with Phil in person again. They'd reached a point in their lives - or perhaps the greater societies as a whole had reached a certain civility - where renown for each of their abilities outweighed the fact that they were hybrids. There was no longer any reason to run and hide in the shadows, to kill for every meal. They entered tournaments. They won. They were cheered on for their strength.

Phil was on his third kid by this point, possibly fourth if one had slipped by Techno's notice - not that he was counting.

It was the voices, he rationalised, constantly spilling all kinds of intensity from enthusiasm to protectiveness to possessiveness to rage - none of it was his own, and he resented having to carry it.

Phil became well-respected. Techno became widely feared.

He started to make enemies, mostly by incident rather than intent. In these tournament worlds, competitors died and did not stay dead. They came back the next round with a desire to get even and Techno could only ever reciprocate with more and more bloodshed. Resentment was an inevitability.

It was the voices chanting in the back of his head that named him. _Blood for the Blood God!_ they cheered with every kill. Inevitably, he couldn't untie his voice from theirs. It caught on with the public. It was catchy. It was terifying.

* * *

Philza crafted Techno's crown for him.

It took months to build up enough trust to pry the golden ingot from his little hands, and even then he wouldn't let Phil out of his sight once it was taken. He clutched his new, sanguineous cloak, the only thing that didn't change colour as his world was cast under a red shadow. He wrapped it tighter around himself, his piglin half growing less and less resilient to the cold.

He lost track of time. It was impossible to know how long the project had taken, but soon enough there was a crown sitting atop Techno's head.

Now he'd have two free hands, Philza explained. Much better for fighting.

* * *

Talking to Ghostbur felt like melancholy.

Towards the end, he'd gotten mad. Violent. Destructive. 

Technoblade had been dragged into this world after the change began, after Wilbur had already lost everything. He'd barely been aware of his existence, let alone _known_ the man.

They'd worked together. They'd bantered. They'd blown up a country, Wilbur with explosives, Techno with withers.

Phil, the Angel of Death, came down from brighter worlds to face his son.

And then there was the morbid, childlike ghost that looked like Wilbur and acted like no human ever acted. He wore a yellow sweater.

He felt like melancholy.

* * *

The thing about the voices was that they were not Technoblade, unrelated to where they resided.

Not only were their impluses and desires independent of his conscious thought, but often times they spoke independently of _each other_ , overlapping in an amalgamous mess of conflicting ideas.

One thing they universally agreed on was trusting Phil.

But they were not Technoblade.

Sometimes, it was difficult to know his own thoughts and feelings - they became so swept up in the flood of other voices that telling himself apart from the others was more effort than it was worth. They were outsiders.

(They pulled Techno outside of his own existence.)

* * *

They'd taken over the world, once.

_A_ world, technically. It counted.

But it didn't matter.

He just liked spending time with Phil.

* * *

The Arctic Syndicate was a bare shadow of what the Antarctic Empire had once been, just as intended.

It wasn't about political power, military strength, intimidation - it was barely even about anarchy.

Phil had picked up a new kid, one that Techno would never in a million years admit to being fond of. Wilbur was already gone. Tommy was a lost cause.

He watched as Phil grew more exhausted with grief. 

Technoblade was still around somehow. Maybe he could protect Ranboo. Maybe he'd protect Phil from more unnecessary loss.

Niki had been kindhearted. This world had not treated her well.

Maybe they didn't have to handle things alone.

* * *

It was getting harder and harder to think straight. Technoblade couldn't remember the last time he'd slept deeply enough to dream.

It felt like standing inside of a Nether portal, sitting in the dizziness without coming out the other side.

It felt like a thousand voices inside his head, but all of them were his own.

He didn't like it.

* * *

Technoblade woke up in a pocket of Nether.

The smell of lava hit his snout; and the floor's obsidian pressed into the skin of his face felt reminiscent of something he did not quite recall.

He wanted to throttle Dream.

_Imagine getting kidnapped. L._

The voices were at once more subdued and harder to push out of mind. What normally would have been a thundering waterfall was now an irregular trickle onto his forehead, one he couldn't move away from.

Technoblade knew what potions felt like. He'd trained himself through constant use of _Swiftness_ , _Regeneration_ , and every other substance that would provide an edge in a fight, to identify the efficacy of each effect. He could intuit the time they would inevitably wear off, sense the fluids dispersing into nothingness.

So this inexplicable fatigue, this weight draped across his entire body, this _exhaustion_ was all the more alarming once he realised something as predictable and temporary as a potion was not the culprit. It left him too exhausted to act on the instincts that had kept him alive from his earliest memories, and almost certainly before that. He needed to get up. He needed to gather his bearings.

He groaned from exertion, accomplishing nothing.

Something shifted in the air, but Techno couldn't do so little as raise his head to see what. He laid prone, the most vulnerable he had been since - 

"How are you feeling, Techno? Tired?"

Fury tried to flare up, but the spark was snuffed out before it could flicker to life, replaced by an ice cold feeling in his veins. "Nngh..." Technoblade moaned.

A damned chuckle reached his ears, sending another jolt of ice through his body. "Seems about right. You hungry?"

_For your blood_ , a voice replied silently. Before Techno could even try his hand at getting his mouth to form words again, there was something snaking its way across his back. In his mind, he spun and sliced that intrusion on his personal space off without a second thought. In his body, he was rolled over like a ragdoll. Chains rattled against his wrists. 

Looking up to see Dream's mask was not a surprise. The sudden sensation of the room spinning was.

He hadn't even known it was possible to get dizzy while lying down.

A hand rested firmly atop Technoblade's shoulder, pushing out a growl of irritation from deep within his chest, which then tapered off into a meek, pathetic whine. Reflexes had his muscles tensing. Circumstance had them lamely ineffective at getting his body to obey.

" _Careful_ , careful, Techno," Dream warned in a soothing tone. "You don't want to over-exert yourself right now. You're in something of a... _delicate_ position."

_We'll make your face delicate!_

" _Shuddup_ ," Techno managed to squeeze out, just needing some peace and quiet. If he wasn't able to talk, his head could at least give him some space to think his own thoughts.

Dream hummed appreciatively. "I wouldn't try to speak just yet. You'll just tire yourself out. Besides, I know exactly where this conversation's going."

Technoblade screwed shut his eyes to avoid a bout of nausea as he was lifted upright into a sitting position, and turned slightly so that his back had something to rest on. The obsidian's surface was smoothed, shined and polished with immaculate precision. There was no bumpy edge digging into his spine.

"You'll say I tricked you, or that I lied to you - or maybe you'll start with the empty threats you have no way of fulfilling from this position."

Technoblade huffed. Dream raised a bowl of stew to his lips, which he let his head fall to the side to avoid meeting.

Fingers threaded through his hair - hair which had been carefully braided, and was now inexplicably loose - close to the scalp, forcing him to face forward again. "It's not laced with a potion," Dream sighed, tilting the wooden bowl.

Techno wasn't sure he could have clenched his jaw shut if he even wanted to. Sure, he might have made a mess, but that wouldn't have accomplished much. His mouth fell open, and he could only hope the fact that he was salivating was not obvious to the company. 

"The truth is, I was mostly honest. I have _no_ interest in fighting you head on, Techno." If he focused on the taste of mushroon stew, maybe Technoblade would be able to properly ignore Dream's monologue. "I really did enjoy working with you and Phil. I don't want you as my enemy."

The only thing in his line of sight that wasn't Dream - his mask, his body, his arms, all of which were entirely too close not to be getting slaughtered - was the stew, which Technoblade vehemently trained his eyes on as he gulped down mouthfuls to avoid spilling any onto his chest.

"And technically speaking, I _don't_ care about being the most powerful person around, because a _want_ is not the same as a _necessity_." Dream retracted the suddenly empty bowl from Techno's lips, leaving him with nothing left to rest his gaze on. No choice but to acknowledge the man who was crowding him back against the wall.

(Even being pinned down with a sword at his throat, even being gashed by an axe to the gut, would have been more comfortable than _this_ \- this helpless immobility as he was confronted with someone who didn't need to put any effort into getting as close as he liked. Sure, he was chained, but Technoblade couldn't lift his _arms_ , restraints or none.)

"I want you to know that it wasn't a lie," Dream insisted, letting go of Technoblade's hair in favour of tilting his head up by the chin. "That I _deceived_ you, Techno. I mean, you of all people should understand that war is all about deception."

He snarled at the paraphrasing. 

The smile was audible in Dream's voice - the _real_ smile, one that didn't match his simplistic mask. "I admire you, I really do. But the thing is, I can't ever trust you, not completely. I could have kept hold of that favour, but it was one time use. I needed a permanent solution. I could have _tried_ to assassinate you, and I might have even succeeded, but I realised something."

He leaned in, so close that the plain, smiling mask was all that occupied Techno's vision.

(This was not a real face, but the knowledge of one hiding right behind it was not a comfort. Far from it. It was too close, too confident, too correct in its assessment that coming this close would not result in a maiming. It was a mouth that could have feasted on his flesh if it so desired. It was a pair of eyes that could have scoured his scars. It was a snout that could smell his fear.

No, not a snout, a nose. There were no piglins around here, even if the cell screamed _Nether_ , from its obsidian surfaces, to its netherite chains, to the wall of flowing lava just out of sight. Even that was not enough to convince Techno's body he was really in the Nether. The chill was too strong; the lava did not fight it well enough. Nether heat was ambient, in the air and the ground and the souls of those who resided within. This cell had one heat source. They were not comparable.)

"I will _not_ let your power go to waste. Not when I could make it work for me, instead."

A stone dropped in Technoblade's gut. " _Syffuning..._ " he slurred aloud.

Dream brushed a fallen strand out of Techno's face, with all the gentleness of a devoted carer. "Who needs God apples when you have the Blood God himself?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say headcanons and lore? 
> 
> ...No?
> 
> Well I DID IT ANYWAY
> 
> (Tags are so hard to do on mobile, I'll probably update them tomorrow when I have access to a laptop, if I need to)


	3. And the Moonlight Heard the Voice of a Song Otherwise Unknown to Anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technoblade has a visitor.
> 
> He doesn't like this one much more than Dream.

When Dream finally left, he made a show of walking straight through the lava, just to prove the efficacy of his _Curse of Siphoning_. As his figure was engulfed, there was an intangible pull on Technoblade's flesh - not his soul, he didn't believe in those - draining what little strength he still had against his will to keep Dream safe and solid in the embrace of burning. Technoblade pressed tusks against his lips to suppress a whimper until there was no one around to hear it.

_He sounds so pathetic._

No one but the voices.

The cell felt simultaneously too small - tight and suffocating, with no open air, no sky for Philza to swoop down from - and too large - like an unforgiving world to a child yet unable to traverse it. Staring at the opposite wall brought Technoblade inexplicable shame: the knowledge that he couldn't _attempt_ to cover such a short distance in this weakened state. Crawling there would be Herculean; walking, impossible.

Even with Dream physically - blessedly - absent, the insufferable feeling of his hands on Techno remained.

He needed to move, even a little.

If he didn't, then he really was just a ragdoll. A toy put away in its box until Dream came back to play.

Technoblade shifted his leg, against the complaints of exhausted muscles, sliding one golden boot less than an inch across the obsidian floor. It didn't scrape or screech, gave no indication of wear, but Technoblade wasn't giving up that easily. The runes spelling _Curse of Binding_ glared up at him through tired eyelids. There was exactly one way to get them off, and that was mindless destruction.

Using every ounce of strength available, Technoblade kicked one leg out and dragged the other inward, repeating the cycle slowly and far from steadily in an attempt to wear down the golden armour at the heel. Legs trembling more and more with each repeat, he found himself breathing heavily from that alone.

Gold was weaker than iron, he reminded himself. More malleable.

He continued.

* * *

Technoblade used to dig gold out of the ground.

The difference between hybrids and true piglins, was that he had no cloven hooves to protect the skin of his hands as he manipulated the metal and pried tiny nuggets out of greedy netherrack.

He looked down at the fruits of all his labour: a single golden ingot, stained with his own blood.

Today, the skin of his hands was worn and thick, and decorated with ropey scars.

* * *

This visitor was not Dream. The lava wall parted to allow their access.

(For the briefest moment, Technoblade let himself believe there was a chance of rescue.)

Techno stilled his movements, trying not to feel too relieved at the rest, and turned his head so that while the entrance was in view, it was not in his direct line of vision. The voices buzzed in anticipation, an itch crawling up his neck.

They were coloured with the wrong shade of green, more olive than Dream's lime.

_New friend pog?_

Ignoring the needlessly optimistic voices, Technoblade flicked up his eyes to take in the new arrival's appearance and, if they were paying close attention to him, acknowledge their presence.

They looked _wrong_.

Everything was far enough out of proportion that it scaled the unfamiliar side of the uncanny valley and roughed itself up on the tumble back down. Their torso stretched too long, legs crushed too short, and arms slid down both sides to protrude from the where a normal human would have the base of their ribcage. The unnatural look was not helped by the metal mask clasped over the lower half of their face, leaving only a pair of black hole eyes and textured, greenish skin visible.

Piglins and humans were not similar enough in appearance or culture for a hybrid to comfortably fit in on either side of the aisle, but at the very least they had the same general shape. Whether piglins were humanoid or humans piglinoid, Technoblade didn't know. What he did know what that his basic physiology was simple enough to understand. Almost everything physical that set him apart was aesthetic.

Philza, having no wings anymore, passed almost perfectly for human if one didn't catch him whispering with crows or balancing on fences with his bare feet.

This thing - _person_ , some part of his mind corrected - looked like they had crawled out of a nightmare, completed by the wall of lava closing back up behind them.

"So, which of your parents was the creeper?" he asked tiredly, wanting to fidget but lacking the energy to do so.

The hybrid stared at him with hollow, unreadable eyes. "That isn't relevant." Their voice sounded masculine, but was muffled by the face covering.

Technoblade rolled his eyes, letting his head fall back to rest on the wall rather than continuing to look at the visitor.

A shadow cast over Technoblade's slumped form, cutting the light of the lava as the person approached. "Can you move your hands?" they asked, lacking the upward pitch of a questioning tone. Really, all of their words lacked any sort of tone.

_Yes, and we'll strangle you!_

Technoblade hadn't tried yet, having put all his energy thus far into scraping the boots against the floor. The boots were heavy, but he didn't have to lift them, just slide them across the smooth obsidian surface. His chains were smaller, but netherite was heavier.

He tugged from his upper arm and the chain did nothing but clink against the ground, keeping his hand firmly in place. He shook his head.

"I'll take that as a no," they informed, crouching down and lifting a wooden bowl to Techno's face.

He recoiled immediately from the unmistakable scent of cooked pork amidst the carrots and potatoes. Technoblade's shoulder hit the ground and he kicked out, missing the creeper hybrid by virtue of their quick reflexes. "Try that again and I'll bite your hand off," he warned.

"You don't have the strength to be biting things; that's why you're getting stew for now," they replied innocently, as if they hadn't just tried to force feed him _pig flesh_. 

"Then I'll spit it in your face," he glared up at them, keeping an eye trained on the bowl in case they tried again with it.

They sighed, like Phil used to sigh when he found Techno bathing in the blood of his enemies. "You're already very weak thanks to that enchantment. You don't want to become malnourished, too," they threatened, with none of the forced gravity of a normal threat.

"Yeah, I'm not hungry," Techno refused. The nausea from the horrible smell and dizziness from falling to the side _had_ left his stomach spinning in circles. He almost wanted to hack up last visit's mushroom stew. "What's it matter to _you_ , anyway?"

They answered simply, "I'm the architect and Warden of Pandora's Vault. The wellbeing of every occupant is my responsibility, regardless of who put them here in the first place."

 _Kill the Warden!_ a voice screeched. _Escape, escape!_ another agreed. 

Technoblade studied the person in a new light. The _Warden_. They were clad in netherite armour, but a few glints of gold peeked out between the pieces. Even if he had his full strength, Technoblade was unarmoured and unarmed. Killing this Warden for their equipment would be advantageous, but so far past impossible it was laughable.

"You know Pandora opened the jar, right?" he huffed, pushing himself a little further from the Warden.

They tilted their head. "What?" Again, there was no upwards tone, just the flat word.

"It's kind of a terrible name for a prison. Like, Pandora's jar wasn't some inescapable fortress; it was designed to be opened in the end."

The Warden crouched down, still holding the stupid bowl in their weirdly-placed arms. "It's not named for how well it contains, but what it contains."

The evils of the world? Technoblade pondered that, and in the end wrinkled his nose at the thought. "While I'm honoured to be considered a plight upon humanity, it's still a dumb name. Call it _Crete_ or something." The island containing the Labyrinth and its Minotaur; the place where Daedalus and Icarus were secluded until they took flight on wax wings.

The Warden shook their head again. "This conversation is pointless. Eat." They pushed the bowl closer, and Techno cringed away again. "Then I'll leave this with you," they relented, setting the bowl down on the ground. "If you don't wish to be fed by someone else, you can wait until you've regained use of your arms, if you'd prefer."

"I'd _have_ use of my arms if I didn't have to wear these damn chains," he pointed out. "I mean, it's not like I need restraining..."

"They're not to restrain you from fighting - though considering you, that's always a wise precaution to take. The chains are to prevent you from touching the lava."

Technoblade looked at the flowing lava; dropped his gaze down to the length of chain attached to the opppsite wall; and made some rough estimations. It was true. The lava was out of reach. "Ah, yes. Baby-proofing," he deadpanned.

"Yes, essentially."

Technoblade scoffed at the Warden. "Aren't you leaving yet? I've got very important things to be doin', as you can probably tell."

The Warden, either missing or ignoring every single shot of sarcasm, nodded and stood up. "One more thing, before I depart."

They tossed a number of bottles to the ground, scattering glistening orbs that flowed into Technoblade's core. The golden boots glowed even brighter than their regular shimmer, brighter than the entire wall made of lava, and highlighted the runes which clearly read _Mending_.

 _Oof_.

Technoblade schooled his face into a blank slate, careful not to let his disappointment show. If the Warden was going to do that every single time they brought food, breaking the boots was a lost cause. His progress would be erased faster than he could make it, assuming he was even making progress in the first place.

Essentially, his only plan was crushed. The Warden didn't need to know that plan had existed in the first place.

Watching them disappear back into the folds of the lava curtain, swiftly falling shut behind them, Technoblade realised that he couldn't even dump the stew into burning destruction. It he tried to throw it, he was likely to spill it out across the floor, and then that awful scent would be _everywhere_.

He set to work migrating across the room, so he coukd at least have some distance from the abhorrence.

* * *

_I don't like it here._

_There's nothing we can do. We're just passengers._

_We **don't** like it here. We're not meant to **be** here. We want **blood**._

_There will be blood. Just be patient._

_I miss Dadza..._

* * *

The thing about hybrids was that they were rarely the product of anything as innocent as love. It was an ugly truth that was hard not to know.

It didn't matter if both species matched in intelligence - humans considered anything that wasn't them to be far too animalistic by nature to communicate in any capacity other than violence and bartering. As such, it was a reasonable conclusion that Technoblade himself resulted from either violence or batering.

It didn't matter to him. If he had ever met his blood parents, he'd lost memory of them long ago.

* * *

The Warden returned after a while with a new, fresh bowl of pork stew. Finding the last one untouched and Techno across the room from it, they gave him a look that he couldn't decipher and swapped the bowls out. They set the new one right next to Technoblade.

"You'll eat eventually," they warned.

_Eat his soul!_

* * *

Philza had not been the one to teach Technoblade to fight.

He'd taught him survival: finding food in the wilderness, from the waste of civilisations that did not welcome them or even, once a safe enough place was found, cultivating their own crops in the earth; crafting shelter, clothing and armour to protect them from the elements and assailants alike; travelling stealthily to avoid confrontations when possible.

But fighting was an innate pull, from somewhere below conscious thought. It was rainfall and river flow and the spread of fire through forests. It was some law of nature.

If anything, it was a skill that Philza tried to stifle, at first. Battles were loud, and bloody, and in nearly every case the numbers were stacked against them. Survival meant avoiding unnecessary dangers, regardless of the potential benefits. The worlds they traversed were not forgiving with lives lost.

It was the voices that flared up with rage whenever a human settlement was in sight, both begging and demanding that Technoblade storm in and tear the flesh from their bones. Fulfilling their wishes did not subdue, merely amplified the bloodlust. Nothing else mattered in those moments but destruction. Time became secondary; purpose and reason drifted away in the flowing red rivers.

Phil had to drag him back to his senses each time.

Technoblade did not remember the time before Phil, traversing the Nether alone, wrestling hoglins for his next meal, dodging fireballs that he was not yet strong enough to deflect; but his instincts remembered perfectly. Fighting alone, one against many, was like breathing to him.

It was cooperation that had to be taught and learnt: the ability to rely on another person. A _human_ -looking person.

It was only in retrospect that Technoblade that Philza was just as unfamiliar with the world they were stuck in together.

He recalled some nights, when the voices refused to let him sleep, Technoblade would roll over and see Philza sitting outside their shelter - a cavern, a forest canopy, a slab of wood just oarge enough for both of them to squeeze underneath - staring up at the sky with an expression of yearning and a song hummed softly in his chest. Phil would roll his shoulders in a small movement that should have been larger. It should have raised a magestic pair of wings wider than trees were tall.

There were no wings to spread anymore.

Phil rolled his shoulders, and buried his head in his hands.

He was careful never to bring phantoms down upon them.

Every third night, he would remain under the shelter, and tell Technoblade a story. At that age, the piglin hybrid didn't know the difference between myths, legends and history. He simply enjoyes the tales, because Phil was the one telling them.

The morning after Icarus, he slaughtered seventy chickens and stole enough honeycomb from none-too-happy bees to craft a pair of feathered wax wings.

It was the first time he'd ever heard Phil laugh, _properly_ laugh. The man - boy, at the time - had a cackle hiding in his throat, that came out only when it was safe to show its face.

* * *

Technoblade could not train, or exercise the time away. He couldn't stand; he couldn't swing a fist or a make-believe weapon; he couldn't build any strength that wouldn't be immediately sapped away by the damn boots.

It was frustrating, to say the least. He couldn't even get close enough to the lava to be comfortably warm.

He shut his eyes, and downed out the many dwindling voices with the story of Sisyphus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, ignore me scrambling to tie everything together into a coherent lore. I'm totally good at planning things out. Totally.
> 
> On another note, thank you all so much for the positive reception on the first two chapters!
> 
> (I don't headcanon Awesamdude's character as nonbinary by the way; Technoblade refers to him as 'them' because he's unfamiliar with creeper hybrids, and can't tell the difference between male and female, so he sticks with neutral.)


	4. In a Grey Theatre, the Window Held Dear Orion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technoblade is stubborn.
> 
> As is Dream.

The cell's clock hung high on the wall, at just the right height for someone standing, and far, _far_ too high for someone stuck on his butt.

Sitting at the opposite wall, Technoblade had perfect knowledge of the time of day. Counting the days themselves was another issue.

He hadn't even noticed it for the first few days, so there was lost time. Even after spotting the clock, it was difficult to keep track. One day, then a deep and shallow sleep that could have been one hour or twenty-five.

He didn't know if the Warden brought meals at normal intervals - didn't even know what normal intervals were - or if the enchantment meant he needed to eat more frequently. It didn't matter, because he wasn't eating them.

It didn't matter until it did.

"Sam tells me you haven't been eating," sounded a familiarly irritating voice from somewhere other than inside his own head.

Techno's eyes had been fixed to the clock, not the lava wall, nor the green-hooded, masked figure emerging from it.

He did not pass through in the way something with natural resistance swam through lava. In fact, the lavafall never even touched him, held at bay by a radiant orange glow encompassing his entire figure - clothing, weapons, tools and the bowl in his hands - rather than just his skin and body.

"Sam?" Technoblade questioned. "I can see why they go by _Warden_ instead. Much more intimidating."

Dream laughed softly and sharply, as he was wont to do. "Well, you sure know a lot about intimidating, Techno," he quirked his head, scrutinising every detail of Technoblade's pitiful form, "but not so much these days."

Techno's wrists rattled in the chains as of late; his skin grew more pallid every time he checked. "I don't know, man - skeletons are pretty scary."

"So's dying," Dream sauntered closer, wielding the bowl of stew like a weapon, "and you, Techno, look halfway to death's door."

 _Technoblade never dies!_ "Maybe that's just what I want you to think," he pointed out. "Maybe I'm biding my time, tricking you into a false sense of security and all that."

Dream took a contemplative pause. "Alright," he decided after a while, setting down the stew and reaching for something at his waist. There was a glint of grey, and before Technoblade knew it, he was thrown to the ground and pinned there by the waist, facing up, something cold and metal pressed into his palm. The pressure on his belly did nothing to aid Technoblade's nausea. "Make your move," Dream commanded, dragging Techno's hand, and the iron dagger held in it, by the chain about his wrist up to grace the bare skin of his neck.

Technoblade pushed himself forward without hesitation; propped himself upright with one arm while the other pressed inwards with the dagger. Dream held the chain taut, trapping the blade less than an inch out of reach. The difference in strength was impossible to overcome. After a few ineffectual seconds, Dream cocked his head, then twisted the chain and slung it straight to the floor, flattening Techno back down.

He leaned in close - _too close,_ complained a younger-sounding voice - and shifted his grip off of the chains and onto Techno's forearms instead, squeezing almost playfully. "I think I'm pretty secure," Dream concluded. He twisted Techno's wrist until the dagger fell out of his hand.

Technoblade winced, but the pain in his wrist and the weight on his torso were quickly gone as Dream let go, retrieving the blade and shuffling off of Techno's waist to lean against the wall.

"You really should eat," Dream insisted, picking up the stew again while Techno took all of eternity to sit up and slouch on the wall beside him. "Don't tell me I have to mama bird it to you," he half-joked, half-threatened.

Ignoring the hollow ache of his stomach, Techno said, "I ain't hungry."

"Come on Techno..." Dream muttered gently, reaching up to touch Techno's face like a champion admiring a trophy. Technoblade leaned slightly away, but Dream didn't take the hint. "You need to keep up your strength."

"But isn't it your strength, Dream?" Technoblade countered, jerking his head away from the hand. "Am I not just a tool you're using to get stronger? A _weapon_?"

"That's not-"

"Oh no, that's _exactly_ what it is," Techno continued, spurred on by a sudden anger he didn't have the energy to maintain - an anger he had to ignite quickly or let flicker out as quickly as it came, "and I'm not giving it to you - because guess what, Dream: I'm _still a person_. Not a weapon, not a tool, not a glass bottle for you to pour from. A _person_. If there's one thing I can do to get under your skin, I will, and right now that means depriving you of whatever strength you hope to gain from me."

For a long while, Dream was silent, shocked by the sudden outburst. He was parsing the words, figuring out exactly what to say to make Technoblade feel that it was pointless. Then, after so long of a pause Dream might have just _forgotten_ to respond, "You must have a lot of faith in Phil," he commented nonsensically.

"What are you even-?"

"Well, that's what you're holding out for, right?" Dream wasn't asking, not really. "Because, let's be real, you're not breaking those boots, or those chains, and there's no one else outside this place that'd storm the castle for their princess. No one but Phil."

 _We're a pretty princess!_ "I-"

" _And_ ," Dream continued forcefully, "the state you're in, he'd have to carry you all the way out, too. Well, given the weight you've lost, that'd be the easy part. Still, he'd be completely alone."

Technoblade's hands slowly balled into fists. Dream noticed.

"Now, here's the tragic part," Dream muttered lowly, leaning in to Techno's ear to make himself audible, " _he's going to get himself killed trying_."

A chill worked its way up Technoblade's spine, but he didn't shiver. He didn't cringe away. He didn't flinch.

"Go on," Dream challenged. "Say I'm bluffing."

It would be so easy to act strong, to sneer and snap and spit in Dream's mask. Phil was strong. Everyone knew that. He wasn't a blood-bathing champion of combat - he was sly. Phil took out his enemies before they realised they were enemies at all. He hid behind a smile, a pot of tea, a warm laugh that sounded like coming home. Phil wasn't in idiot. Any venture, he planned. He prepared. He didn't take unnecessary risks. But Techno had realised a long time ago that connections, friendships, were weaknesses.

(He was careful to hide Carl away, ever since the execution.)

"No," Technoblade answered. "You're not bluffing."

Dream only nodded in response to the acquiescence.

After an uncomfortable lull, Technoblade snapped, " _What?_ "

The man gave an undisturbed snort. "I could make threats, Techno, but I'm not going to. Drink up."

Technoblade considered dumping it in Dream's lap. It was a nice fantasy, but in the end, just that: a fantasy. He took the bowl into his hands, and sniffed it. No pork. Just mushrooms and a hint of dandelion.

He lifted the bowl and tilted back. Against his desires, the feeling of food - even one as insubstantial as stew - dropping into his stomach was a physical relief. As soon as one gulp was down, his stomach woke up from its slumber and demanded the rest, _immediately_. He obliged, like a hoglin so busy feasting on the flesh of its prey that it didn't notice the predator coming up behind.

_No more starvation, poggers!_

"Hey, Techno?"

"Mh," he replied, mouth occupied.

"Have you ever considered the fact that you're actually safer here than anywhere else you could go?"

Technoblade swallowed down the last mouthful, wiped his chin with the back of his hand, and gave an eloquent, "Heh?" 

"How many people are out there vying for your blood, Techno? There's the Butcher Army - incompetent, but they almost executed you once - plus...well, every citizen that defended L'Manburg while we wrecked the place, _and_ pretty much anyone trying to start up some form of government. It's a _long_ list."

"What can I say, I'm just so friendly and peaceful," Technoblade deadpanned.

"But the thing is, Techno," Dream went on to explain, "none of them are getting close to you, not in here."

And of course, because Dream was Dream, he felt the need to emphasise his words with more unwanted touching. He lifted the empty stew bowl out of Techno's hands, which would have freed them up if he didn't also wrap his spindle-like fingers around Technoblade's bony wrist.

His other arm, after pocketing the wooden bowl, was draped right over Technoblade's shoulders, like a second cloak: a thin, protective layer. Techno was faced with the choice of leaning into Dream's weight or being pushed over by it. The former would have to do.

"Dream-" he began to protest, but was swiftly talked over.

"All those people, dragging you into their childish battles; failing to understand what your very clear principles have been all along; and then having the _audacity_ to act like you're the one betraying them for not falling perfectly into line!" Dream said, as exasperated as Technoblade has felt the first time it happened. "And I _know_ \- believe me, I do - that you're more than capable of handling them all, over and over and _over_ , but the thing is, they won't ever stop coming. Each time you defend yourself breeds more resentment. Will it make them understand? No. Will swearing off violence make them stop? No. They're all too _stupid_ to let go of old grudges."

Technoblade tried to formulate a response, but everything Dream said sounded like it was plucked straight from his own mind. He agreed with every word.

"I'm not stupid, Techno. Unlike everyone else, I'm able to move past the fact that we've been on opposite sides of conflicts before. I can forget that you hid Tommy from me."

There it was. Dream was acting like _he_ was the saint in the situation, when he'd been chasing after a child to keep him isolated from the rest of society, as though he had _any right-_

(Not that Techno cared about Tommy. He didn't. Not when he'd turned on him after everything Technoblade had done.)

_Big bro Techno! Protecc-noblade!_

"Wouldn't it be so much easier to never have to face those idiots again?"

_Dream protect pog?_

"Wouldn't it-?"

* * *

"This is for your protection," they had assured in strider-silk voices, heedless of his complaints.

"No, no no no, _don't_ -"

They stroked his cheek, stroked his wispy pink hair, cradled his little scarred hands, and looked him in the eye, taking in all of the features that didn't fit right. "For the sake of the future. For the family," they promised.

He tried to run, but there were just so _many_ -

* * *

"No, no it wouldn't," he answered, all at once light-headed and heavy-fleshed and carrying an itch underneath the skin where Dream's touches lay. "I don't need protecting, not from anyone, and definitely not from _you_ , Dream." He moved to shrug off Dream's arm, but the stubborn weight remained. "You think I don't realise what you're trying to do? Acting like you care when you've done _this_ to me?"

With one wrist held by Dream, Techno used his other hand to gesture to the golden boots, and the abominable cursed runes they bore.

"You think I don't know what you did to Tommy?"

Tommy had been so pitiful, so confused when Techno found him slinking around his cottage. He was so afraid of Dream, and yet didn't seem to know whether he was actually a _friend_ or not.

Dream went quiet again, in a way that would have made Technoblade feel sorry if he actually cared about hurting Dream's _feelings_.

"Don't tell me you're actually mad about that," he settled on: an admission. "I thought you hated Tommy-"

"I _pity_ him, after what you did to his head," Techno corrected, "and I refuse to become that pitiful myself."

"You really think I'm manipulating you? Please, I respect you too much to treat you the same as _Tommy_ -"

"Just _go_ , Dream," Techno sighed, trying again to push Dream's arm off of him. He tugged at his wrist and, surprisingly, Dream actually let go. "I got some very important things to be doing, you understand. Watching the clock. Listening to the lava. Sleepin'."

Dream finally released Techno's shoulders, which were sorely complaining from the pressure, and said, "Believe what you want to believe, Techno. As long as you keep eating, it doesn't matter."

* * *

Phil hadn't understood, at first, why Technoblade refused to eat pork.

He recognised that Techno was half piglin, but that didn't mean he understood.

Technoblade was fairly certain Phil's other half was some type of bird, but that didn't make poultry any less tasty to the guy. The piglet, on the other hand, fervently refused any dish containing even a sliver of pig flesh, regardless of how dire things were.

He was just too picky. Dietary preferences did not belong with starving kids.

Phil didn't understand for a long time, but he still respected Techno's wishes.

It was only after travelling together into the depth of the Nether, and watched a piglins slaughter a family of hoglins with their gold-tipped crossbow bolts and gilded swords, that Phil noticed the way he reacted. Techno tensed up so tight he couldn't walk. His mouth went dry and sour despite the comfortable heat of the Nether.

Three days later, once they had found a nice place by a slow-running river, Phil pulled Techno up to the river's edge, wooden hoe in hand, and asked if Techno had ever heard of farming.

He tilled the wet earth, and buried a potato within it. It took multiple days and nights under the watchful eye of the sky, but eventually many came from one.

They had time for only one harvest before humans forced them out of the area and into an arid desert, but it was enough to each bake a potato and keep one for replanting in the future.

Years later, Technoblade lived alone atop a floating island with no dangers capable of chasing him away. He tilled the earth, and began to farm.

* * *

The Warden - _Sam,_ Techno reminded himself, _he has a name, and that makes him less terrifying_ \- never brought back a piece of food containing pork.

(Techno wondered if the first bowl had even been intentional. After all, it wasn't like a creeper hybrid could understand something like cannibalism, when there wasn't a creature alive that enjoyed the taste of _gunpowder_. This Warden might have been cold, but Techno couldn't see the purpose of forcing him to eat pig in the long run. It wasn't because he wanted to assume the best of his captors - quite the opposite - but the pork just didn't make sense.

He pointedly refused to wonder if Dream had been telling the truth about trying to protect him. That wasn't relevant to the equation.

It wasn't.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tad bit shorter than the first few chapters, but oh well ^-^
> 
> Probably a few typos in there, but I was in a rush to finish this morning before online classes


	5. However Many Times it Occurs, this Voice that Echoes Can Only be Cursed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone, somewhere, needs Techno's help.
> 
> Too bad he's nowhere to be seen.

Her wool kept her warm as she trekked into the Arctic.

It hadn't been recoloured in a long time, and so despite the echoes of a vibrant rainbow, she appeared more snowy white than anything else.

Like camouflage, the thought to herself, chuckling warm air into her gloves as she hiked one leg up past the other's knee just to take a single step in the thick snow. She'd left Cottonball safe at home. It was a long walk, but she handled the Artic freeze better than the Nether's stifling heat. Besides, she needed time to think.

Puffy didn't like Technoblade, not exactly.

He was infamous, violent, destructive - basically everything in the villainous playbook, from the onslaught of withers to his army of dogs to that horrific mantra: _blood for the Blood God_. He'd destroyed L'Manburg with enthusaism, with glee, and shed so much blood without a second thought.

(And the anxious ender hybrid had chosen people over sides.

And her promised had turned the last original tree to charcoal.

And her little duckling had rained death from the sky.)

Technoblade, though not alone in his venture, had put an end to the L'Manburg dream; and in waking, something even more terrible sprouted from the ashes.

There was something surreal about watching the Blood Vines grow across the ruins of L'Manburg, bit by bit, infesting more and more every day. An echo of old love for the vines remained in her mind, contradicting the current trepidation. It had preyed on her maternal instinct, she realised. Begging her for protection and love while it consumed the thoughts of all who came close. Falling into the Egg's influence felt like coming home from a long journey and cradling her loved ones, falling asleep in one another's embrace.

She hated to be manipulated.

Puffy firmed her resolve as she trudged through knee-high snow, allowing the Arctic's biting cold to bring clarity where the warm lure of the Egg did not.

From a distance, the cabin could have been a lighthouse on troubled waters, warning her to steer away or else be dashed against the jagged rocks. Unheeding the warning she approched, inch by inch, step by step up the stairs, and drew both a breath and her fist up to rap the door.

It opened before she could even touch it, revealing an unexpected face.

"O-oh, I thought this was Technoblade's house..." she apologised, taking an instinctive step back from the door.

Philza looked back at her with a scrutinising gaze, expression firm and cold. He was clearly on edge. "You're looking for Techno?"

"Yeah, I - " Puffy shook her head. "Is he home?" she asked hopefully. "It's kind of - "

"Did he invite you here?" Philza asked, eyeing Puffy skeptically. Guarded.

"Well, no," she answered, "but I really need to - "

"He's out mining," Philza informed, "probably won't be back for a while, so you're better off heading home. You can leave a note, or if you've got nothing to write with I can take a message."

"Can I come inside?" Even with her woolly coat, the cold was unrelenting, and she heard a fire crackling inside. "I-it's just, I've been wandering outside for quite a bit - "

Philza nodded after a moment's consideration and stepped out of the doorway, allowing her entrance. Immediately, Puffy stumbled over to the roaring fireplace, almost missing the tall, dark figure settled in a boat beside it. An enderman, she realised, carrying a perfectly preserved block of grass as though it were the entire world. Kneeling, she tugged her gloves off between her teeth and held out her bare hands before the fire. Hearing a wooden thud, she turned just her head to see Philza pulling a wooden shutter closed to keep the cold out.

"How come the window was open?" she questioned, dropping the gloves with a soft splat.

Philza glanced down at her, smothering an expression that looked almost like guilt. "Bird-watching," he claimed.

Puffy turned back to the fire, rubbed her hands together and massaged the skin of her face, to get the blood flowing. "You must really like birds," she dismissed, holding onto the lie in the back of her mind. She could think about it later. 

"Tea?" Phil asked, already reaching over her shoulder to hang a pot over the fire.

She nodded anyway, just to be polite. "You live out here?"

"I live in the area," he answered vaguely.

Puffy gave the enderman a curious look, below the eye level. She didn't make a habit of getting up close to hostile creatures, but endermen were calmer than most others. A purple kind of dust rose off of its ashy skin, like stars twinkling out of the night sky. Like tears shedding. "Does Technoblade usually take days-long mining trips?"

There was a tension in Philza as he settled down by the fire, draping a blanket over Puffy's shoulders. "That's not really my business."

"I mean, you both live all the way out here, doesn't it make sense-?"

"So what was the message you had for him?"

There lay a subtle danger beneath the gentle tone. Philza didn't want to talk about Technoblade. That could be addressed later.

(A lion protecting its cub.)

"Have you seen L'Manburg recently?"

Puffy wrapped the blanket tight around herself, feeling the wool against her fingers. It was soft, happy. The fabric felt like freedom.

"I mean, its ruins, since it got wrecked by...well, you."

Sometimes Puffy wondered if she was a bad person - if she surrounded herself with bad people, broken people, to feel better about herself, more sane. She never seemed capable of protecting the children from harm - just burying herself in pity for them after the damage was done. She pulled the blanket up, like a collar over her neck.

Philza didn't seem happy, but he was not a duckling under her wing. He was the lion that she defended against.

"Listen, if you just came here to lay blame-"

" _If you haven't been there_ ," she continued, "then you haven't seen the Blood Vines. The _Egg_."

His expression stuttered like an incomplete redstone mechanism. "The - the what now?"

"The Crimson Egg, Mister Philza, that's been growing in the crater L'Manburg left behind when you-" she fizzled out. She wasn't here to lay blame; she was here for help. "When you and Technoblade destroyed L'Manburg, you...you did it because you believed it was right. Because...because _governments_ never seem to work out around here. Because they've only caused hardships, torn apart relationships, hurt...hurt people."

She thought of Niki, bright-eyed and sweet in the flower shop with a bouquet of every colour to match her love; and then of the other Niki, fire-eyed and cold and alone beside a burning tree; and Puffy wondered where the line was drawn between the two.

"Coming here was a difficult decision to make," Puffy explained, because it was important he knew she wasn't completely happy about it. She wasn't throwing blind trust at the people who had destroyed L'Manburg, merely prodding them to see if they recoiled or lashed back. "I spent a lot of time thinking about it, possibly more time than I could afford."

Philza watched her pensively and cautiously. The teapot began to sing. 

"So, I decided," Puffy added, trying not to let her voice shake, "that _maybe_ , sometimes governments do more harm than good to their own people. Dragging them...us...into wars that don't really matter; putting _children_ in the line of fire..."

The man lifted his pot out of the fire, and poured it into small glass cups, arranging them all on the floor between the two. Philza handed one to Puffy and lifted another to his lips. She took a sip, and noticed that there was honey between the bitter tea.

"This one," she continued, feeling warm from the inside now as well as out, "it doesn't just hurt people, it - it _changes_ them. It changed me, before I got out of its grip. So I - so I came here looking for someone who hates governments and has the power to dismantle them, but instead I found _you_ , and the trouble is, _you don't know where he is either_."

Philza kept his face carefully blank with a well-practiced concealment. He looked perfectly at ease. "I told you, he's-"

" _Mining_ ," she echoed. "Right, and I'm out here _hiking_ , and you were _bird-watching_ , and everything's daisy-chains and flower-crowns."

"...Perhaps you should just go-"

A sharp wave of cold air and the clack of a door swinging open cut Philza off, followed by a low yet youthful voice; soft, yet urgent.

"I had a look around the Nether portals, but with his weapons and armour still here, it was unlikely that he'd..."

Ranboo trailed off, mismatched eyes settling on Puffy's figure. She gave him a friendly little wave.

"Uh...that's...we lost one of the...turtles, so I went out to try and find him..."

Puffy nodded. "Hey, speaking of finding people, do you happen to know where Technoblade is?" she asked in her most gentle, motherly voice.

The boy remained in the open door's frame, head lowered both out of obvious anxiousness and because he couldn't comfortably stand up straight. He trembled slightly, in a way that was clearly distinct from something as simple as a shiver. Puffy was fairly certain endermen had a resistance to extremes of temperature. His hands rubbed together, twitching slightly. Ranboo's eyes flickered up to Philza, then back down again.

He answered slowly.

"He's out...trading at one of the villages." Ranboo nodded as he spoke, affirming the lie to himself. "For golden carrots and stuff."

"And mining?" she asked, turning back to Philza.

"For emeralds," he countered. "We're running low."

She nodded. "Of course."

He nodded. "Of course."

Ranboo's gaze lanced between the two of them, like an enderman hopping to escape the rain with no shelter to find, "O-of...course..."

She could have accepted that, and moved on to some other avenue. Philza didn't want to tell her the truth; Ranboo wanted to follow Philza's lead; and even if she found Technoblade, there was no guarantee that he'd agree to help her. She'd be better off reconvening with Sam, putting up her own measures to prevent others from being afflicted by the Egg.

Puffy wasn't a particularly intimidating warrior, but she had once been a Knight of the Throne - and she could be clever about things.

She didn't _need_ Technoblade, not yet. He was a last resort, and she wasn't getting close to him any time soon.

But she knew the tension in Philza's neck, and refused to let him sit with it.

Puffy smiled to ease the fearful child, "And how long has he been missing?"

The kid startled, shaking in place, hopping side to side without moving at all. The icy air must have seeped further in, because a chill filled the room, sneaking its fingers underneath the blanket, underneath her wool, underneath her _skin_. "I - I made a mistake; I said the wrong thing-!"

He was already out the door, and Philza shot up to call after him. "Ran-Ranboo, it's okay, she already knew!" He staggered up to the doorway that Ranboo had evactuated. Snow was coming in, over his shoulders, and for a moment, Puffy caught the silhouette of wings behind him.

The Angel of Death, she'd heard him called.

But he just looked like a scared father.

"How long has he been missing?" she asked once more, taking another sip of tea.

Philza's breathing was heavy, rattling through his troubled chest without a care for subtlety. His back was to her, hand clenched about the doorframe, and his shoulders tensed. "Two days," he answered. "No note."

"Have you asked around?" she suggested. "Maybe someone's seen him-"

Philza spun back, revealing to her his wild, frantic expression. " _Of course_ , someone's seen him, why else would he be _gone_?"

"You think he was, what, kidnapped?"

"Well he didn't get lost! He knows his way around like the back o-!" He bit off the end of his sentence, and continued in a more subdued tone. "Look, this cabin is all the way out in the Arctic for a reason. You think any of us actually _like_ the cold?"

Puffy considered that. "I...heard Technoblade went into hiding," she said, "to escape punishment after what happened to L'Manburg to first time."

Philza's head rocked back and forth, a gentle shake. "Punishment," he scoffed. "He was never a citizen of L'Manburg, never subject to any of their laws - but that's only part of the reason. He swore off _violence_ , Puffy, and exiled himself to avoid any further bloodshed. He came out here to hide, not because he was afraid of punishment, but because he didn't want to fight anyone else."

It did look peaceful, Puffy acknowledged. This cabin, built from wood and stone and clay, with a cozy fire in its heart, and an enderman sitting peacefully beside it - this cabin did not look like the home of a mass-murderer, or a war criminal. It was the place a man settled to live in idyll.

"And then the Butcher Army came out, stripped him of his weapons and armour, dragged him back into the heart of L'Manburg and executed him without trial."

At some point, Puffy must have stood up, because she was all of a sudden seeing Philza at eye level. She had taken the blanket off of her shoulders, and twisted it up into a woolly ball, and cradled it like the enderman to its grass, like a mother to her young.

She hated butchers very much.

"I understand why you wouldn't trust someone who came out here looking for him, then," Puffy said, "and I know that him being missing has you on edge, but if you'll _trust_ me, I then we can help each other. Find Technoblade; take down the Eggpire. I might not be a good fighter, but I'm on good enough terms with everyone I can get information."

"If..." Philza began, then corrected, " _when_ we find him, I can't promise he'll help you."

"Would he pass up an opportunity to destroy a government?"

"Not...not if it's as bad as you're saying it is," Philza acquiesced. "I'll have to talk to Ranboo about this. Privately."

Puffy nodded and gave a guilty smile, "I'm sorry I spooked him like that."

"He's very-"

"Anxious. And afraid. Which is why it's good that he's got someone looking out for him. Can I wait here, or do I need to clear out?" she asked, reluctant to leave the fire.

"No, I - you can stay here," Philza said. "Ranboo's got his own...yeah, I'll go make sure he's okay."

With that, the door swung open and closed again, and Puffy was left alone with the enderman and her thoughts.

And somehow, one important thought never drifted its way to the top of her mind:

Puffy didn't remeber ever once learning the location of this place that had been chosen for the express purpose of not being found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE POV CHANGE
> 
> Puffy is probably quite OOC here because to be honest, I haven't seen many of her streams. But screw it! There's not nearly enough Puffy content on this website.


	6. Its Grating Sound is Matched Only by the Rusted Instruments Who Drowned in the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puffy begins her investigation in the best possible place.
> 
> Unfortunately, she doesn't have the right questions.

Living under the Crimson Egg's influence had been like a fever dream.

It was brief, and eternal; warm and gentle in its embrace; sleepwalking through the day like normal while consumed by one uninhibited desire to _protect_ ; it felt like coming home.

No, not quite.

It felt like being there the moment a loved one returned home, back from a dangeous journey, and welcoming them with open arms. It felt like the return of a lost child. It felt like waiting for them to fall into the embrace, but never quite reach it: in sight, yet still too far. From that dream, she woke up feeling slightly strange.

The fragmented memories left a sour taste in Puffy's mouth, one that she was happy to wash down with another sip of tea as she waited patiently for Philza to have a very important discussion with his newest adopted son.

Puffy's mind wandered, and so did she, giving the enderman a wave as she climbed down the ladder.

The walls and floors were complete, in this place. Chests were filled with resources, and animals milled about in perfect safety. Anarchy, she understood, did not mean chaos. Finding two cows, Puffy offered her hand to one, which it sniffed, and allowed her to stroke the top of its head. Both were muscular and healthy, not so heavy as cattle for slaughter, not so malnourished as forgotten trinkets. These creatures were well-taken care of.

Delving deeper, she found around a dozen villagers packed into little nooks, wholly encompassed by their workstations: agriculturalists, clerics, librarians, all boasting selections of the most valuable items. Only a handful of emeralds pressed against Puffy's pockets; she wondered how rich Tecnoblade really was, if he traded so much.

There was a faint clatter overhead, sending Puffy back up instantly to the room with the fireplace.

The first thing she noticed was the static-scream of the enderman, jaw unhinged and shaking. The second thing she noticed was that the room was cold once more; a window had been opened and, out of it, she saw a flash of red, white and a blurry head of blond hair.

"Tommy?" the name fell from her lips before it reached her mind and body. Puffy burst through the door, and chased the cold out, watching the red and white figure grow smaller as he sprinted away. At his edges, she caught the glint of golden appled and the iridescence of potions hanging out of his pockets. "Tommy, wait! I just want to talk to you!"

Puffy sprinted after him, but he soon disappeared behind the treeline without so much as a glance back at her. A flurry of snow was already filling his tracks.

" _Tommy, get back here right now!_ " she demanded, knowing it wouldn't work. " _Tommy_ _!_ "

"What's going on?" came Philza's concerned voice. Startled, Puffy spun and realised how heavy her breathing had become from just sprinting thay short distance. Her heart was thudding incessantly from within its cage. "What happened here?" Philza seemed to have calmed down, and shortly behind him, Ranboo was looking a great deal more steady.

(The crown was slightly askew.)

"It was - " she heaved, trying to take deep, slow breaths and failing terrifically, " - I was downstairs an' - heard something upstairs - got away 'fore I could - "

"Tommy came _here_? Why? Did he say anything?" Ranboo asked.

Puffy shook her head, "I think he was stealing stuff - gold apples, potions," she listed, "combat stuff. Got on your ender-friend's nerves, too."

"That little...racoon," Philza sighed.

Ranboo nodded solemnly. "Edward doesn't like intruders. He was probably more angry than Techno was after he heard what Tommy did."

"So why would Tommy come here?" She questioned, heart twisting in place. "Surely he'd realise it's a big risk, stealing from Techno."

"Do you think he...he _knows_ Techno's not around?" Ranboo asked, already a couple steps closer to the edge Philza had just pulled him back from. "Was he _involved_?" Realising the blanket was still balled up in her hands, Puffy unfurled it and stood on her tiptoes to drape it over the kid's shoulders. He was hunched over slightly, which helped.

Philza was silent for a moment before shaking his head. "Tommy's always been too reckless for his own good. I'd wager he would have come here anyway."

Of course, _of course,_ Philza would know Tommy well enough to make that judgement - Puffy just couldn't help but wonder if it was clouded by sentiment.

No, she decided - between Technoblade and Tommy, the latter could never overshadow the former, not to Philza.

"If he's after potions and apples," Philza began, "that makes me wonder what kind of fight he's preparing for - why he didn't have the time to gather up his own resourses, or the allies to ask for help."

Ranboo fixed his crown. "Maybe he just couldn't be bothered."

Puffy tilted her head in consideration. "Or maybe-"

"I'm supposed to tell Puffy what I remember, right Phil?" Ranboo asked. "Can we get back indoors?"

* * *

Ranboo's home was simple. It didn't go so far in the aspect of insulating from the cold, but his little pets didn't seem to mind. An affectionate little black cat, apparently named Enderchest, nuzzled into Puffy's leg once she arrived.

Ranboo's explanation was vague, to say the least.

"I was the last person who saw him. I think...two days ago. Yeah, two days. Phil was out, so we had dinner at Techno's place. Then I went home. Next thing I know, I'm back at Techno's cabin, and his equipment's all on the floor, not even in chests: weapons, armour, tools - I put it all away, just for safe-keeping, but when I called out he wasn't around. At first I thought he was sleeping, or something, but..."

"How did you know to go back to the cabin?" Puffy asked. "Did you hear something alarming?"

"Huh? O-oh, no - it was already morning when I went back."

"You didn't notice anything strange all throughout the night?"

He smiled sheepishly. "I just completely blacked out, you know? I-I mean, I was pretty tired... Do you think if I'd noticed something, I could have saved him from being taken?"

That hopeful guilt crushed her heart. Without thinking, she reached to place a comforting hand on his arm. "Don't think about _ifs_. The person or people who took Technoblade must have been powerful, right? You might have gotten hurt or captured yourself if you had caught them in the act."

Ranboo stared wistfully at the hand. He might have been tall, but the ender hybrid was lanky enough that Puffy's hand dwarfed his limbs. There was something overwhelmingly fragile about the shape. "Thanks, Puffy. I just wish I knew more, so I could actually help..."

"You've given me plenty to work with," she assured. "I've got a timeframe to work with, which is a whole lot better than nothing."

"Can I-? I mean, is there anything I should be doing to help find him? I've _tried_ searching around, but there's just so many places he could _be-_ "

"Someone needs to take care of his pets, right? I feel like he'd be unhappy if they got neglected in his absence, you know."

* * *

The problem was, Puffy didn't have a clue where to start. She was on good terms with most people but, if she went around asking questions, that was subject to change. Besides, most people didn't know how to find Technoblade when he _wasn't_ kidnapped.

Puffy started with the only person she _knew_ she could trust: the one who had been with her against the Egg from the start.

"Hey, Sam."

It might take some convincing for him to want to bring Technoblade into the cause, but once he realised how valuable the anarchist could be, he'd agree.

"Listen, I had an idea I wanted to run by you - something to help us fight the Eggpire."

"I'm listening," Sam said, face inscrutable as always. It didn't matter: Puffy had learned to understand his emotions from his unique body language.

"We're the only ones of the Badlands unaffected by it right now, but even then it was a close call for both of us. I was one of the first people it got to, and Bad shoved you in a hole trying to make you _love_ that thing. There's a strong possibility one or both of us will get taken again, into that - that _cult_. If that happens, it's over for us."

Sam nodded slowly, readjusting his mask. "An ally would be able to help us fight, and act as an additional failsafe against induction into the Eggpire. Mathematically speaking, the more allies we have, the less likely we are to be taken down."

"Exactly! So I was thinking-"

"That being said," he continued, "the more allies we have, the greater the likelihood of being double-crossed. We already know that Bad is more than willing to tell plain-faced lies to get us closer to the Crimson Egg. If we tried to recruit someone who was already on the side of the Eggpire, we'd be vulnerable to manipulation."

And that was a very, _very_ good point that she hadn't considered at all. Puffy's jaw clenched unconsciously as she nodded. "Right. Of course. So, if we _did_ try to recruit an ally, we'd have to be careful about who we picked. Maybe someone who has already expressed beliefs against things like _dictatorships_ or _governments_ , right?"

Sam stared at her with his hollow eyes, not moving. He was wary.

"So..." she continued, hoping the suggestion wouldn't make him explode, "I went looking for Technoblade..."

Sam stiffened, and for a brief moment, Puffy had the irrational fear that he was about to explode, a phantom hiss ringing in her ears. "And?" he asked. "What did he say?"

"Well, that's the thing," she explained, "he...wasn't at his place." Better to keep her conversation with Philza and Ranboo to herself, for now. Even if Technoblade was a safe bet, there was no guarantee the other two hadn't been infested with love for the Egg. Come to think of it, if that were the case, _they_ might have been the ones to make Technoblade disappear. She cut off that train of thought before it devolved into outright conspiracy theories. "I couldn't find him."

Sam nodded reasonably. "Technoblade is known to have multiple hidden bases. He's not easy to find."

"Oh, I did spot something interesting, though!" she added. "When I was there, I saw...I saw _Tommy_ , stealing stuff."

"...Stuff?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah," she said, "combat stuff. Golden apples, splash potions, maybe some weapons. But he ran off without saying anything. I called after him, but he acted like he couldn't hear me!"

"That is strange," Sam agreed, "but Tommy is a bit of a strange kid."

"I thought... Well, it looked like he was readying up for a fight, but-"

Sam cut her off again. "I don't think Technoblade's a good choice."

"R-really? You don't think he'd fight against the Eggpire?"

Sam sighed, the muscles of his face tensing in a way that indicated that he was trying to make some expression that his creeper features wouldn't allow. "There's a possibility... It's true that he dislikes governments, but the man also has an affinity for blood and violence, much like the Crimson Egg. They're both...well, they're both quite _hellish_."

"You think he'd side with the Eggpire..." she parsed, "because he's part _piglin_?"

"Well, not necessarily-"

Puffy scowled. "Come on, Sam. You should know better than to judge someone for being a hybrid! You don't go around hugging creepers, do you?"

"I'm not - I _don't_ think that would be case," he clarified. "I just think it's too big of a risk. Even if he joined our side, his poor reputation might make it harder to gain future allies. If anything, it would be better to keep Technoblade out of this conflict as much as possible."

A sigh escaped Puffy's lips. She'd bring him around eventually. "Fine, but we still need allies. Did you have any ideas?"

"Well, there's Dream."

An icy hand clawed at Puffy's heart at the mention of her little duckling. "Dream?" Her chest tightened. "Why him?"

"Dream's strength is...comparable to Technoblade's, possibly even greater; he would be much easier to get in contact with; he's much more likely to stand against the Egg than with it; and you two are already on good terms. On the whole, he's a much better choice-"

"We're not on good terms," Puffy corrected.

"You're not? I thought the two of you were close..."

She picked at the cuff of her sleeve. "I...haven't spoken to him since Doomsday."

Puffy couldn't deny the parental instinct she felt towards him. When Dream had followed her out to the forest, silently observing while she chopped wood, she'd felt a quiver in her heart.

It tugged on the same strings the Crimson Egg had.

Watching him wreak havoc on L'Manburg; hearing him _laugh_ and _sing_ amidst the destruction; feeling the earth-shattering rumble of the explosive rain...

And the fear and anger Tommy felt towards him.

Puffy didn't know how she felt about her duckling.

"I...I don't think we're on good terms anymore."

Sam took a long pause to absorb that information, but at least he did so without further protest. "In that case, we should take some more time to consider our potential allies. We might have to act fast, but we shouldn't do anything rash either."

"Yeah," Puffy said, relieved that he wasn't pushing it. Even if she couldn't get Sam's help finding Technoblade, the discussion made her all the more certain that the man was the _right_ choice. Philza had been sympathetic to the cause, and once he saw the effects of the Eggpire, he'd go a long way in convincing Technoblade.

Just as she turned to leave, Sam called out to her, in a tone as close to questioning as his raspy, monotonous voice could get. "Puffy?"

"Yeah?"

"Have...have you ever eaten mutton before?"

There was a sickened twist in her stomach. " _God_ , no. Never."

"So you'd...probably be upset, if someone offered you food containing mutton."

"Tell me you didn't get me something with mutton in it."

"I didn't, I didn't," Sam assured, raising his disproportionately small arms in a matter that woukd have looked more placating and less threatening on someone more humanoid. "I was just wondering, that's all."

"Yes, I'd be more than a little _upset_ ," she sighed, running a hand through the wool on her head, trying to be patient with him. "I'd probably break that person's nose." Even seeing _other_ people eat mutton made her nauseous. She tried not to hold it against them - it was something that was considered normal, to society - but that didn't make it pleasant.

"I see... Thank you for the information."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are going to slow down now that school is starting back up. Love y'all for your support and feedback!


	7. In that Dream I Heard a Thousand Voices and Gathered Them Together to Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is about to occur, that cannot be undone.
> 
> Puffy just wants to do what's right.

Tommy's house was in ruins.

The thinned-out smoke smelled of blood and rot, like the Nether itself.

(Like the Blood Vines.)

The earth was caked with netherrack, decorated in wisps of flame that had survived being stamped out: remnants of destruction. Puffy's footsteps muffled by the grass turned to gentle clacks.

Amidst the rubble, two signs stood emotionlessly.

_Wednesday._

Puffy ran.

* * *

The butchers always took them away from the corrals for slaughter.

They didn't have to. Even watching brothers and sisters bleed out, there was nothing any of them could have done. Somehow, the sight of a lamb being led away, glancing back for one final time, was more gut-wrenching.

The thing about hybrids was that it was extremely difficult to predict where on the spectrum between both species their intelligence would lie. Physical features were more or less an equal split, fluctuating as the generations passed; but mental capacity was so much more difficult to pin down, and so much easier to conceal. Puffy's was the closest to human of all the part-sheep she met, but the butchers never found out.

Physically, she was closer to the human side than most others, which was how she always avoided selection. For some reason, it put the humans on edge to eat a creature that looked similar to them. They just sheared her pure white wool.

It would have been easier, perhaps, if the others had all been simple as pure sheep - then Puffy could have tricked herself into believing they didn't feel pain; or, failing that, didn't have the awareness to sense their impending doom before it hit.

But some of them knew words.

_Baba,_ was the most prevalent.

"That's right, honey," she'd whisper, still just a lamb herself, " _baba's_ here."

And her family would be taken away, over, and over, and _over-_

* * *

"Were you going to _tell_ anyone?"

She saw the way the boys tensed up, not having heard her come in. Her steps were obscured by the flowing, holy waters of Church Prime.

Tommy and Tubbo exchanged guilty glances, trying and failing to school their faces into innocence. "Tell them...what?" Tubbo tried.

"About Wednesday," she answered bluntly, "as in, _tomorrow_."

"W-well, about that..." Tubbo began, trailing off as he looked to Tommy.

"We we're gonna tell people...eventually..." Tommy defended. "I left up the signs, so it's not like it's a _secret-_ "

Puffy's hands flew beside her head emphatically. "Not a secret? Is that why you ran from me after robbing Technoblade? Even when I called out after you?"

Tommy sputtered. "Well, I didn't wanna get in trouble, did I?" Then, muttering lowly, "He's not mad about that, is he? I was planning to give everything back if I didn't use it..."

So Tommy didn't know Technoblade was gone. That was good news. Probably.

"That's not going to matter if you die out there, Tommy!" Puffy snapped. "Tubbo!" she added, because she didn't want the other boy to feel left out of the scolding. Equal rights.

Tubbo petulantly rolled his eyes. "Well, we were planning on _surviving_ , actually."

"Yeah," Tommy backed his friend up, "and bringing Dream's head back with us!"

Fighting _Dream_. Just how idiotic could two kids be?

Two _kids_.

"And you're so confident you'll win?" she pressed. "Even two on one, you think you can actually beat Dream?"

Tommy looked the slightest bit offended. "Well, you don't have to put it like _that_ _-_ "

" _Yes!_ Yes, I have to put it like that, because you two don't seem to _understand_ what it is you're getting into!"

"What I don't understand," Tommy growled, "is why it's any of your business what me and Tubbo do."

Tubbo nodded vigorously. "Yeah! We can do what we want!"

"So bring backup," she argued, "failsafes, allies!"

"Didn't you read the signs? He'll destroy the discs unless we come alone. Just the two of us."

"You're going to _die_ for a pair of _music discs_ ," Puffy emphasised.

Tubbo shouted. "We're not going to die!

"Have a little faith, Puffy."

"Have some _common sense_ , Tommy."

The boys - the children, the ducklings, the _lambs for the slaughter_ \- scowled with contempt. "This isn't your decision, Puffy," Tommy said. "You might not understand, but those discs - what they represent - they're more important than you realise."

Puffy forced her voice to soften like the candy-floss wool on her back. "Discs aren't people, Tommy," she said, not knowing why those precise words made his face twist like he'd taken a swig of lime juice. "You're both out of lives. Once you're gone, you're _gone_."

"You think I don't know that?" Tommy snapped. "You weren't even around when...when Wilbur died. I was his friend. I was his ally. And now - and now he's a _ghost_ and it's _nothing_ like having him back to life, because everything's _different_ , Puffy! He's changed, and I don't want to change like that, not ever, so I'm not going into this fight expecting to die. I'm coming back, _alive_ , and I'm making sure Tubbo comes back, too."

"And we're getting those discs!" Tubbo added. "We'll get the discs back, and Dream won't _ever_ use them against us again."

* * *

Puffy didn't remember what came between the corrals and this land.

She did not remember learning to captain a ship, but the knowledge and skill had become engraved in her muscles and subconscious, embedded in her soul.

She did not remember the storm that tore her from her vessel, only the salty waves washing her upon the shore.

She did not remember if that time had been spent alone, or if it was yet another instance of immeasurable loss.

She did not want to lose any more people in her life.

* * *

In the end, it was Punz that came through.

He made it clear that there was no personal involvement: Tommy had tossed lumps of diamond, gold and netherite his way; and even though the man hadn't been called in for assistance, he had some _point_ to prove to Dream about the downfalls of devaluing one's mercenaries.

He was the one who rallied the troops.

They came from just about every faction in this land. As such, there was no one war room that could hold them all. The meeting was held in broad daylight, more than a dozen faces circled around a simple wooden table like hands of a warped clock. Puffy's shoulders were sandwiched between her ally, Sam, and her old liege, Eret.

Across the table, she caught the nervous green and red eyes of Ranboo; tried and failed to catch the cocoa-brown eyes of Niki; and pointedly did not allow herself to be caught by the horrid, hollow eyes of Bad and Ant.

Supplies were passed around, unclear exactly where it had all originated from. Puffy snagged what looked like an equal share - a worn, but well-made netherite chestplate and a shiny new pair of boots; an assortment of splash potions with both positive and negative effects, which she was careful to keep separate; a handful of gold-covered apples - and passed the rest along.

Time was limited. Tommy and Tubbo had said their goodbyes to half of these people already, having taken off this morning. The only thing standing between them and Dream was the time it would take them to get there.

Punz knew the location. Punz had a portal set up. All they had to do was follow him and pray it wasn't a trap.

Puffy stuck by Sam's side as they traversed the thin tunnels, vast maws and unsteady ledges of the Nether. Thick wool hugged the warmth to her skin, helped only by the occasional provision of ice from Sam's pocket, which melted and evaporated within minutes of touching the Nether's scalding air.

They waited for the call.

They stepped through.

"I'm sorry Dream," Punz declared unapologetically, "but you should have paid me more."

The ceiling stretched high overhead, black like a night sky absent of stars. An array of lamps lay embedded in the floor, surrounded by rock too hard to break: the floor of the world, rock bottom. Across the portal, two unthinkably tall pillars of light stood parallel edged with blood red stone. A number of shadowy corridors jutted out from this room, but none of them mattered right now.

Tubbo and Tommy stood armourless before Dream.

The children.

Her duckling.

Puffy gripped _W'manberg_ tightly as she stepped out of the portal.

Tommy saw them arrive first, face lighting up with hope as more and more stepped into view, reaching blindly for Tubbo's arm to attract the other's attention.

"Punz?" Dream said, unconcerned, before turning to face the portal and the immense number of combatants emerging from it. His mask betrayed no emotion, but his body tensed up.

"Step away from them," Punz ordered.

Dream, shelled in a protective layer of glowing netherite, raised his hands in a casual mockery of surrender, taking a step backwards as Tommy and Tubbo took refuge behind the crowd. Puffy shot the boys a pointed look which may have dampened their excitement a bit. She could feel bad about that later. "You sure this is a fight you wanna pick?" Dream asked.

Sapnap spoke up. "You might be strong, Dream, but even you can't win against all of us."

Dream cocked his head. "I'm not so sure about that. Are you willing to bet your life on it?" He addressed the mass. " _All_ of your lives?"

Puffy nodded firmly, watching the others do the same. She wasn't a particularly strong fighter by any means, but numbers didn't lie. Dream would surrender, eventually. He'd realise he was in over his head. He'd lower his weapons and concede.

(She wasn't sure she could bear taking the life of her little duckling.)

"Well," Dream chuckled, "so am I."

Sapnap struck first, running head on as Bad and Ant fanned out either side. His sword caught on the wood of Dream's shield, while the other two's attacks were summarily dodged. More rushed forward, but Puffy was not focused on the fight itself. She stuck to the middle of the crowd, one of many guarding the kids on all sides.

She saw Niki and Jack hanging back, staring at Tommy with icy eyes.

Everything became a muddled blur of clashing netherite and glass smashing against the ground. Puffy was inebriated again and again with strength and speed and every kind of advantage, and yet Dream continued to fight as though it was nothing.

"Get him!" someone - it was impossible to guess who - cheered.

"Take him down a peg!"

"Tear his head off!"

Punz slashed forwards.

The mask cracked.

Everything seemed to slow down as one porcelain piece shattered against the ground, revealing the bottom half of Dream's face. Only a corner of the artificial smile remained. His mouth dropped open with shock, a streak of blood falling from the gash on his cheek.

Puffy had never seen her little duckling look so...

_...vulnerable._

Dream swiped at the blood with the back of his shaking hand.

"Huh," he breathed, sounding completely unconcerned. "You actually got me."

Puffy watched as the wound closed up before her eyes, in a flourish of deep pink swirls, leaving behind clean, warm skin with no indication that there had ever been a cut.

"Guess I'll stop playing around, now."

Dream dropped his shield with a thud that reverberated from wall to wall.

There lay a smirk on his face.

When Eret rushed in, Dream did nothing to avoid the sword strike to his midriff, brimming with flames that caught and crawled all the way across his body. The wound sealed up just as his face had done, and the flames merely danced against his edges without causing any harm.

"He'll run out of potions eventually!" Sapnap called out. His words turned Dream smirk into a full-blown manic grin.

Puffy couldn't help but wish Technoblade were here, too. As much as she _despised_ the devestation he had caused, this fight could have gone a lot faster with that man on their side.

_Where are you, Technoblade?_

Puffy stepped in front of the boys and caught Eret by the shoulders as they were flung back by Dream's retaliation. The once-king nodded their appreciation, rushing right back into the fray even with a lilt to their step.

It was bloody. It was painful.

However much blood Dream spilled, he never went down. 

It was around the time he started laughing that Puffy realised they were being toyed with.

"What the hell is this, Dream?" Sapnap snapped. "You haven't even used a single potion!"

Dream's body shook with laughter. "You mean you haven't figured it out? _Sam_ , do you want to spill the beans?"

Puffy's heart thudded harder. She turned to face Sam, who had been stood on the other side of the boys, clutching his trident this entire time, never making any move to strike against Dream. She ushered Tommy and Tubbo to her other side, standing before the creeper hybrid.

"Sam? What's he talking about?"

As always, the man's face was unreadable. It was all in the stiffness of his body that Puffy realised something awful was happening.

" _Sam?_ "

He turned his head away from her. "You're really quite annoying. You know that, Dream?"

"Oh, _right_ ," Dream said with a teasing tone of mock-guilt, "you didn't want them to know you were on my side the whole time, did you? Sorry, guess I slipped up."

An outcry erupted from the crowd, drowning out the response Puffy could only tell Sam gave from the shudder of his chest.

"You traitor!" Tommy spat, prompting Puffy to put out an arm and prevent him from advancing towards Sam.

"You always find yourself with so-called _traitors_ , Tommy," Dream mocked. "Have you ever wondered if maybe you're just the kind of person that deserves to be betrayed?"

Dream strode into the heart of the horde, and Puffy shifted to stand between her duckling and the boys instead.

" _Leave them alone_ ," she seethed, full of heartbreak and hatred and _pain_.

Dream stopped for a moment, tilting his head at Puffy. She waited for him to speak another taunt, or threaten her or _something_ , but he remained as silent as the day they first met. Her little duckling.

(She had stared at the Blood Vines with the same bitter melancholy - too torn up from past affection to truly allow hatred to settle in her heart.)

Dream raised a hand and ruffled the wool on her head.

There was a soft click, and pistons shifted overhead. Puffy didn't have to look up - to look away from her duckling's half-shattered face - to see the orange glow descending upon them.

She spun, wrapped the boys - including Ranboo - in an embrace and smashed a bottle of orange wisps against the ground, unfurling at their feet as lava flooded the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I do painful things?
> 
> *cackles in more suffering to come*
> 
> I'm fairly certain /none/ of this timeline checks out exactly with canon but hey what are you gonna do sue me?  
> pls dont sue me
> 
> slightly shorter chapter than usual, but not by much! I was expecting to include the next section here, but the fight scene lasted longer than expected teehee


	8. Together They Wove and Created a Song from Far Too Far Who'd Never Reach the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puffy does not think fondly of drowning.
> 
> She's even less fond of the feeling of betrayal: the loss of a friendship.

Puffy was drowning.

Tumultuous waves crashed around her, burying her again and again under the cruel waters: more grey than blue under the stormy night sky. With every fighting thrash, she slipped deeper, weighed down by the heavy water soaked into her wool. The cold pushed deeper - it crawled all the way into her bones, stiffening her muscles to the point of helplessness, dragging her down, down, _down_.

A hand shot down from the heavens, and soon the only water on her skin was rain.

* * *

The heat of the lava was scorching, even though it could not harm her. The fire resistance made it so: none of the danger, none of the pain, yet all sensations remained, from the pressure pushing in on all sides, to the thickness that was more than twice as stubborn as water, to the burning kiss against every inch of her skin threatening to turn her to cooked mutton once the potion ran its course.

She moved.

Puffy could not see her hand in front of her face, much less the children she had been shielding when the lava came crashing down. She was pushed into her own section of the unallowing matrix, nothing but scorching bright orange on all sides. The lava pushed back against her movement: a straight line until she hit a wall. Then, she dug her nails into the charred blackstone bricks to scale the room's edge until she hit an opening.

There was an eerie silence within the lava. Sounds were muffled and distorted as though behind a blanket, smothered by a mountain of wool.

It was like running within a dream - with an urgency that was impossible to match, feeling slower and slower by the second. Fatigue lanced through her muscles. She pushed against it; she forced the body to part around her.

She trudged out in a corridor, floor raised so that the lava spilled across the floor at a mere knee's height, freeing her senses and airways. Puffy continued forward, now with a destination in view. All she had left to do was reach the section of the floor that was untouched by lava.

She called out instinctively.

"Tubbo, Tommy! Ranboo!"

Glancing backwards revealed nothing but the sight of a churning wall of lava, and almost resulted in Puffy tripping over her own ankles, so she kept her head forwards. There was no light source up ahead, the dangerous illumination from behind being her only guiding light.

There had been a number of different corridors, and Puffy didn't know where they all led. She prayed the others had made it somewhere safe, if they had survived the initial lava spill at all.

The children, at least, she had done what she could for. She'd seen the splash potion wrap around their boots as well as her own.

(As for Dream, whose safety she had no reason at all to wish for, given the way he'd walked off Eret's flames, he'd survive easily.)

Puffy stumbled to dry floor just seconds before the soft orange buzzing of her skin gave out. Hearing the lava bubble so closely behind her, she scrambled even further, with a painfully childish whimper.

Then suddenly, came a response.

"P-Puffy?"

She staggered further into the corridor, where the faintly echoing voice had come from. "Ranboo?" Puffy gasped with relief. Her voice was carried away, bouncing between the walls. "Are you injured?"

Puffy came to a shadowed junction: one choice to the left, one to the right, and one straight ahead. She awaited the boy's response to guide her. "I'm...I'm okay!" Ranboo answered, promting Puffy to turn on her heel and head left.

"Stay where you are!" she ordered. "Keep talking to me and I can find my way to you!"

The winding corridors became a maze, which in turn became a labyrinth as Puffy alternated between offering reassurances and following the direction of Ranboo's voice. At some point - she didn't know when - the walls had turned from blackstone to obsidian, and Puffy wondered when Dream had even had time to _build_ this place.

Ranboo's voice grew louder as she advanced, the delays between their words becoming shorter and shorter with the distance. He had to be close.

"I'm almost there, Ranboo, okay? Just a little more-"

From the darkness, around the corner, laid not the monochromatic visage of Ranboo, one eye made of emeralds, one made of redstone - but the sickly creeper-green under plates of gold and grey that sparked up an immediate fury hotter than the ghost of lava's embrace. For a split second, she anticipated a hiss and a blast, followed by an all-too-sudden death.

Puffy's hand flew to her sword and raised it without hesitation.

" _Sam,_ " she seethed.

"Puffy, listen-"

She shot forward and, giving the traitor no time to evade or find another switch to flick and flood _this_ area with lava too, scuffed her blade off the wood at the edge of Sam's shield.

"I don't want to fight you," Sam said, to which she swung again, this time hitting the shield dead centre, the force of which caused her blade to bounce back.

She growled, "You should have thought of that before you _betrayed_ me!" Puffy ducked under Sam's arm and came up to strike him from behind. He reacted quickly, spinning to face her and raising his shield again. The trident remained unused in his other hand, clutched tightly at its neck.

"Dream was exaggerating," he said, ever-monotone. "I never betrayed anyone."

There weren't many angles she could come at him from, in this narrow corridor. Puffy cursed herself for not bringing an axe. _W'manberg_ shook in her hand. "How long have you been on his side?" she demanded. "Was this whole battle a trap?"

"I'm not on Dream's side," Sam responded, hiking up his shield to protect himself from another blow. "My duty is to Pandora's Vault."

"Your duty is to your _people_!" Puffy yelled, taking a step back so that she could hurl an instant damage potion. "To the _Badlands_!" The glass shattered, deep mauve dust spilling out onto the ground and then latching onto Sam's legs a split second later. It shot upwards, needling into his heart. Sam lurched to one side, holding himself steady with a palm pressed against the wall, trident clattering against the floor. 

"I-" he hissed with pain, half-kneeling to retrieve his weapon, "-am fulfilling that duty as well. As I said before, Dream's assistance would be extremely advantageous in the fight against-!"

Puffy aimed another strike. "He can't be trusted!"

(She did not notice the tears forming in her eyes.)

"After everything he's done!"

(She did not think of her duckling in the forest.)

"To Tommy, to Tubbo, to L'Manburg..."

(She did not think of nearly drowning in the angry sea.)

"To me!"

(She did not think of her family being led away from the corrals.)

"He's a _monster_."

Sam's gaze was not the kind of gaze that could be followed. His eyes were hollow sockets, a pair of dark circles that revealed nothing. His voice, too, was often impossible to read.

But Puffy was his friend.

Puffy _had been_ his friend.

She knew every quirk of body language there was to know: how he'd fold his arms behind his back to make their odd placement less noticeable; how one angle of head tilt was questioning whilst another was admiring; how he took a deep breath and inflated his chest not when he was angry, but when he was _afraid_.

Sam lowered his shield, and raised his trident.

"You really think he'll just help us fight the Eggpire out of the goodness of his heart?" she demanded. "You think he won't try and find some way to usurp that power for himself instead?"

Sam stared with hollow eyes - at Puffy, at her sword, she couldn't tell. "I thought that you cared for him."

"I did," she confessed. "Do you know what it felt like?"

Puffy tightened her grip on _W'manberg_ , and watched Sam do the same with his trident.

"It was like the _Egg_ ," Puffy declared, "warm, and sweet, and _manipulative_."

For a moment, they remained that way: facing one another, weapons raised to strike, yet completely still. For a moment, Puffy met Sam's eye and saw a flicker of his soul behind it.

They shot forth in unison, and met in the middle.

* * *

She staggered into the dark room, _W'manberg_ on the verge of slipping through her fingers while her other hand pressed firmly against her side.

Puffy knew it was a room, not a corridor, because the timbre of her lilting footsteps and heavy breaths changed. The sound became wider, less claustrophobic but also less concealed. Swallowing, she held her breath and halted her pace for a few seconds.

A single sound, moulded into shaking gasps, skirted through the air in her silence.

"Ranboo?" she called out to the pitch black.

There came more voiceless breaths, like a crier trying not to be heard. Puffy moved towards it, netherite boots clunking against the obsidian floor with every step, with all the terror-striking gravity of an iron golem.

"Ran..."

She didn't see the chink in the floor that caught the toe of her boot. She didn't see the ground come rushing up as she fell tumbling down. She didn't see one glowing red slit and one pale emerald raise to see her in the darkness.

An enderman's cry filled the air, static creeping into the wound at her side, sending an electrical jolt of pain through her system.

 _W'manberg_ and her clenched fist were pressed - trapped - between her body and the floor.

"H-help..."

She tried to roll herself over, to no avail. Her potions and apples had been depleted by the fight. Her strength was waning.

There was the sound of glass shattering against the floor, amidst the static, followed by another. In an instant, the pain in alleviated, stitching together the wound, while cleansing neither the blood on her skin nor that which stained her sword; and her limbs became heavier, weighed down by the tangible stench of slowness in the air.

"I'm surprised," came her little duckling's arrogant voice. "I didn't think you'd actually take one of his lives."

He was difficult to discern, within the drowning cry, but he was _close_ : voice soft, and low.

"I bet he was surprised, too. You're more fierce than most people give you credit for," Dream sighed. "They look at you, and see a weak, little lamb."

" _I'm not,_ " she groaned, pushing against the slowness even though it was futile.

A gentle hand came to rest on her upper arm, ceasing her movements with a disproportionate strength. "I know you're not, Puffy."

Puffy clenched her jaw, and hissed through her teeth, "Don't touch me."

His response was, of all the awful things in the world, a _chuckle_. "But I can," he said, satisfied. "I can do whatever I want." Dream's hand did not move away.

She wanted to throw him to the ground and tear his hands off.

(Alongside the weak part of her that wondered if he was just touch-starved.)

"Is that what it's all about then?" she spat. "Having enough _power_ to do whatever you want?"

"In a sense," Dream answered vaguely. "I do enjoy having power - having complete control over every situation. It's not about boring ideas like _order_ and _chaos_ ; government and anarchy. If it's something I can control, it has a place in my world. If not, well..."

Puffy clenched and unclenched her fist, refusing to go limp even as the slowness weighed her down. "Ranboo..." she called to the cry that was beginning to peter out.

Dream paused, but the cry did not cease. "I don't think he can hear you right now," he concluded.

"What's happening to him?"

"Well, he's scared," Dream answered, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "He _did_ just swim through lava, then find himself trapped in endless obsidian hallways. I wonder if it reminds him of the End."

"When did you even _build_ this place?"

"Maybe it took me an hour," said Dream, "maybe a day, or a month, or maybe it was _always_ here, deep beneath the ground, just waiting for this day to come."

"But..." Puffy breathed, at a loss for any more questions other than the simplest one: " _why?_ "

She craned her neck, twisting her head so that she could see Dream's half-mask, illuminated by the particles of strength that swam around him. He tilted his head. "I was planning to kill Tubbo, you know," Dream told her. "That's what I was gonna do before the cavalry showed up - nice timing by the way. Tommy refused to say his goodbyes, stubborn idiot. So, even though this fight was doomed from the start, I guess you _did_ accomplish something: I have no idea where Tubbo slipped away to.

" _Tommy_ , on the other hand, is exactly where he needs to be: locked away where he can't bother me anymore."

Tommy...

 _I'm sorry_ , Puffy mourned her failure to protect to child. _I'm so sorry, Tommy._

"You bastard..."

"Please, isn't that just one less burden on you?" Dream laughed. "I mean, he's _alive_. Pretty soon he'll be inside Pandora's Vault, where nothing can get to him. You should be _thanking_ me, for that and for how I'm gonna help your little 'weed-killing' project."

Puffy seethed. "I don't want _your_ help!"

Dream began to run his fingers through the wool of her head, straightening the spirals and curls before they sprung back into shape. "Well that's not really your choice, is it?" he murmured. "After all, your next best option is kinda...out of commission."

The furious lava of her resolve solidified into ice-cold rock. "You know where Technoblade is," she realised.

In the darkness, she caught the faintest glimpse of Dream's smirk. "You've got all the pieces, Puffy. Let me see you put them together."

"You...you _know_ where he is - you and Sam, both - because..."

Silence stretched across her pause, concern over Ranboo's sudden quiet gnawing at the back of her mind as she continued.

"He's in the _prison_."

Saying it made the truth both easier to grasp and harder to swallow, pulling her limbs down even as the slowness relinquished its grip. Dream did too, finally letting go of her arm and standing up, like some puppet master over his marionettes.

(Like some child over his broken old toys.)

"It took me a while to figure it out," he confessed, "but it was worth it. You see, if I couldn't figure out a way to _control_ Technoblade, I'd have to kill him instead - and I _really_ didn't want to let all that power go to waste - so I found a different solution!"

Dream's arrogant tone became twisted with a hint of mania.

"Now, I've got Technoblade; and having _him_ gives me _Phil_. I only wish that old man had come through as well - this was the closest anyone will ever get to storming the castle and saving the princess, you see. He's gonna be real torn up about missing the opportunity."

"I thought you two were allies. _Friends_ ," Puffy growled.

"That was temporary," Dream replied. "My solution? It's _permanent_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably would have finished this chapter a day earlier if my sister hadn't brutally forced me to play video games with her...how awful...
> 
> Thank you all so very much for the kudos and kind comments so far!


	9. While I Sang and Sang and Cried All Alone, I Could Dance Like Fire in a Sea of Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories fall around like rain.
> 
> They're too difficult to catch.

Ranboo swam in darkness.

He was curled up in the fetal position, jaw unhinged and spilling some static noice that buried his senses. He felt too large - too tall, and skinny, and shaped all wrong for a human. There weighed a ring on his head.

He needed to pick something up. He needed a block of the world to hold perfectly preserved, undisturbed, in his hands. He needed to rearrange the landscape one piece at a time, into an array of order with the feel of chaos.

Nothing in this world felt right.

The landscapes were too smooth and sterile and soft at the edges, like rivers and lakes and bottomless oceans. Everywhere he looked, there was something out of place, something to rearrange.

Nothing in this room could be moved. Obsidian lined the walls and the floor, like a shell that refused to be broken; a cage that refused to be opened.

He screamed.

There came a figure from the darkness - the same figure that had plagued his mind for the past few _months_ , whispering lies and trickery and everything awful that Ranboo wasn't strong enough to deny; not just a voice, but a fully-fledged figure in his mind with no explanations or comforts; a nightmare, a dream. Today his mask was broken, and something subconscious forced Ranboo's eyes away from the exposed part of his face.

 _You're not real_ , he said without speaking.

There came no response.

He was left alone, in a wide room, hearing nothing.

* * *

~~_Ranboo tried to sleep, but something intangible nagged at his senses. He felt like, not for the first time, danger was coming to the Artic._ ~~

~~_(He had been that danger, once, standing side-by-side with the Butcher Army. He had no right - no right at all - to think he knew best. He was lucky to be staying here at all, after his own actions and Tommy's betrayal. Any second, Technoblade could come to his senses and kick him out._ ~~

~~_Better not to push it.)_ ~~

~~_Phil clearly thought it was safe enough to spend the night away from home. Ranboo was just being anxious._ ~~

~~_He thought he heard footsteps._ ~~

* * *

_Are you seeing things that aren't there?_

* * *

"He's in the _prison_."

Ranboo squeezed his eyes shut, willing his senses back into order. He needed to be better now. He needed to be _normal_.

"It took me a while to figure it out," said the voice that must have been real - it _must_ have, because a normal person like Puffy was reacting: she tensed up as the man spoke - "but it was worth it. You see, if I couldn't figure out a way to _control_ Technoblade, I'd have to kill him instead - and I _really_ didn't want to let all that power go to waste - so I found a different solution!"

_Control._

_Control._

_Control._

"Now, I've got Technoblade; and having _him_ gives me _Phil_. I only wish that old man had come through as well - this was the closest anyone will ever get to storming the castle and saving the princess, you see. He's gonna be real torn up about missing the opportunity."

There was no air in Ranboo's lungs.

He tried to breathe in, but his muscles refused.

"I thought you two were allies. _Friends._ "

_We're friends, right?_

~~_No, no, no, no, no, no, no-_ ~~

"That was temporary," Dream replied. "My solution? It's _permanent_."

* * *

**_Don't look at me._ **

* * *

Endermen didn't tend to pick up things like wool, but Ranboo was not an enderman.

(Not completely.)

He stood.

He walked forward.

He lifted the white wool, edges tinged with a full spectrum of faint colour.

He went away.

* * *

_**Don't look don't look don't look don't look-** _

* * *

There was rain against his back, but he did not move to protect himself from the sear of water.

He'd just been swimming in lava.

He stood, leaning forward like a tree in wind, hunched over the handful of wool.

"Ran...?"

* * *

_Choose people,_

_not sides._

* * *

~~_Ranboo didn't know how to feel about Puffy._ ~~

~~_She'd been angry at him, when his betrayal against L'Manburg had been revealed._ ~~

~~_(It wasn't a betrayal, not really. He chose people, not sides._ ~~

~~_Maybe he was just being naïve.)_ ~~

~~_She came to the Arctic looking for Technoblade. Phil had told Ranboo to keep it a secret._ ~~

~~_(He said the wrong thing. She figured it out immediately._ ~~

~~_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.)_ ~~

~~_Phil said she was trustworthy. Ranboo wrote it down. That information wouldn't fit inside his brain; he needed paper to make it stick._ ~~

~~_He had to remember._ ~~

~~_He had to know who was friend, and who was foe._ ~~

* * *

He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Ranboo, you have to put your chestplate back on," someone said.

No...no, he didn't want to do that, because breathing was already a challenge and the weight of netherite on his chest would not help the process, not one bit, not when he was drowning in nothing.

"You need something to protect you from the rain."

His jaw ached. He wasn't screaming, but he wanted to be.

* * *

_**I'm already gone.** _

* * *

It was dry, under the tree. Whoever had dragged him beneath the shelter was kinder than kindness.

"Did anyone else make it out?"

"You're the first two I've seen, other than Tubbo."

He held the wool tighter. It felt warm in his hands.

"He's not hurting you, is he?"

"It's fine. I've had hugs more suffocating than this."

"How come he's not talking?"

"I don't really know... Philza would probably know how to help - he and Ranboo are pretty close, I'd say."

Ranboo shuddered a little. The wind whistled.

"Niki?"

"I was just thinking... Would...would talking to him help? It's just that...I'm afraid I might scare him even more if I tried..."

"I'll try! Ranboo?"

His head turned up to chase the origin of the voice, meeting a pair of light blue eyes.

* * *

~~_Technoblade was in pain._ ~~

~~_That was what it sounded like, at least, from the relentless yelling. He was thrashing as Phil tried to keep him in bed._ ~~

~~_"Phil, I can't-! It-it's the voices, Phil-!"_ ~~

~~_"I know, Techno," Phil soothed, holding Technoblade's wrists gently enough not to alarm, yet firmly enough not to be lashed out at. "I know."_ ~~

~~_Ranboo hovered at the corner of the room, afraid to announce his presence and afraid to leave._ ~~

~~_"They don't stop-!" Techno groaned. "Why don't they ever just shut up?"_ ~~

~~_"I don't know, kiddo. I'm sorry."_ ~~

~~_Phil's voice was too soft, too fatherly. Ranboo wasn't supposed to be hearing this. He was an intruder. He didn't belong here._ ~~

~~_"They wanna hurt you-" Techno bit off, screwing his eyes shut as his fists clenched._ ~~

~~_"Try to kill me, and I'll try to kill you right back," Philza said, with a forced ease. "I'm not going down just 'cause of some silly voices, so you worry 'bout yourself, yeah?"_ ~~

~~_Ranboo made a break for it. Better to just get away fast. It didn't matter if he was spotted, so long as he didn't stick around to hear the consequences, right?_ ~~

~~_He clambered into his hovel and prayed he hadn't seen something private enough to kill over._ ~~

* * *

"That was...scary..."

"It's hard to look away, isn't it? When he catches your eye like that..."

"I think he was scared, too."

"It doesn't look like anyone else is coming out - at least not this way."

"Do you think they're all...dead?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. We should try to get back home."

"The portal's full of lava, not that we could get back to it if we tried... I don't even know which way home is."

"Tommy...Tommy and I came through the Overworld. I can probably figure out the way back, once the rain clears up... Apparently you can tell which way's North based on the movement of the Sun!"

* * *

~~_"See, the Sun rises in the East, and sets in the West, so you can tell which direction you're facing if you pay attention to how it moves," Technoblade said, hand raised up to the sky. "Don't look directly at it, though," he warned, "that ain't good for the eyes."_ ~~

~~_Ranboo followed where the man was pointing. "So it's moving up right now...that means it's East over there, so North..." he spun ninety degrees to the left and held out his arm, like a compass needle, "is that way?"_ ~~

~~_Technoblade's response was a vague, "Huh."_ ~~

~~_"D-did I get it wrong?"_ ~~

~~_"Nah, nah, you got it right," Techno assured. "I just- For some reason I was expectin' you to start yelling about how I was overcomplicating it for you."_ ~~

~~_"Really? But...it's actually kinda simple!"_ ~~

~~_"It sure is. You'd have to be a complete idiot not to get it."_ ~~

* * *

"Ranboo? _Ran-_ What's happened to him?"

The frosty wind crawled across Ranboo, snowflakes catching against him and melting tiny pinpricks into his skin. He clutched the wool between his hands.

"It's kind of a long story, but there was a lot of stress and danger, so it could be any number of things-"

"Start from the beginning, I need details."

"Uh, Phil, can I-?"

" _You are not welcome in his house, Tubbo._ "

"I- Okay, I'm sorry-"

"You can hide from the cold in the doghouse."

"Th-that's fine. I like dogs!"

* * *

~~_"How much did you hear?"_ ~~

~~_Ranboo tensed up, hugging his knees to his chest. He was too tall. He needed to curl up into a tiny, invisible dot._ ~~

~~_"Ranboo."_ ~~

~~_"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude or anything-"_ ~~

~~_"I'm not angry with you," Phil sighed. "I just want to know what page you're on. What conclusions you're jumping to."_ ~~

~~_Ranboo frantically shook his head. "I didn't- I don't remember anything; I'm not jumping to any conclusions about-" He bit off the words, letting their loose threads dangle in the air and slowly unravel: entropy._ ~~

~~_Philza simply stared at him, with parental judgment._ ~~

~~_"I-I mean... I might have heard him say something..."_ ~~

~~_"And...?" Phil prompted, a practiced effect of calm falling over the room._ ~~

~~_Ranboo took a deep breath. "Does...does Technoblade have...voices in his head?"_ ~~

~~_Philza nodded, as if it were the simplest thing in the world._ ~~

~~_"And they...they tell him to do things he doesn't want to do?"_ ~~

~~_"Sometimes," the man admitted. "Other times, they're just annoying."_ ~~

~~_Ranboo nodded, even though he didn't fully understand. "He said...they wanted to hurt you..."_ ~~

~~_"They want to hurt a lot of people," Phil sighed, "but Techno's never really hurt me outside of sparring, so don't you worry about that. He won't hurt you, either. He's good at drowning them out, when he needs to - sometimes, they're just difficult."_ ~~

~~_"Do they ever make him do something he doesn't want to?"_ ~~

~~_"No," Phil declared. "They're loud, but at the end of the day, they're just voices. They can't force him to do anything."_ ~~

~~_"Is...is he gonna be angry that I know about them?"_ ~~

~~_Phil took a deep, considering breath. "Well, that's up for Techno to decide - but if you want an expert's opinion: he won't care so long as you don't make a big deal out of it." He raised a palm, which Ranboo met, folding thumb and pinky finger over one another's hand in a miniature hug._ ~~

~~_Ranboo swallowed, grounding himself through the touch of Phil's hand. "Is he gonna be okay?"_ ~~

~~_"Yeah, he'll be fine," Phil promised. "He'll be just fine."_ ~~

* * *

The wool was gone from his grasp, and in its place, a hand with its thumb and pinky hugging Ranboo's.

"Ph-Phil?"

"He speaks!" the man exclaimed joyously, thumb giving his hand a little pat on the back.

Ranboo glanced around at his surroundings, the interior walls of Technoblade's house. Edward was there, sitting in his little boat, watching him with a curious look. "I don't..." he muttered, "remember how I got here..."

"You came here with Puffy, Niki and...and Tubbo," Phil informed. "You seemed pretty out of it, so I don't blame you for not remembering."

"I...the last thing I remember is..." Stretching his memory back was a difficult task. It would have been so much simpler, if he could just skip over the empty space - if he could just declared a certain period of time forgotten - but it was more complex than that. What he _did_ recall was out of place, inconsistent. "We all went to... We went through Punz's portal, and fought...we fought Dream, and..."

"And then Sam dropped the lava while we were all distracted," Puffy continued wih a mild bitterness, announcing her arrival from the ladder as she climbed up onto their floor. "I don't know how many survived, but I splashed fire resistance on myself and the kids. Niki says Jack's potion was the one that saved her."

Ranboo nodded. He didn't remember all the details, but that sounded right. He definitelh remembered the glass shattering. "Lava...feels a lot like water, to me." He rolled back through his memories, weaving through the black spots. "I swam around, and...ended up in a dark corridor. Obsidian. M-more of a _maze_ , really."

"Or a labyrinth," Puffy added solemnly.

Ranboo smiled as Phil gave his hand a little squeeze. "I heard Puffy calling out, and I called back. She was really far away, but our voices carried. She told me to stay put while she came to find me, and when she got really close..."

* * *

_Someone's dying._

_They're fighting right around the corner._

_Stop it, stop it!_

* * *

"I heard them arguing - Puffy and Sam - and then they were _fighting_ and then it was over and I couldn't tell which one of them was _dead-_ "

* * *

_I trust you._

_I trust you._

_I trust you._

_:)_

* * *

"Stay with me kiddo," Phil said, an anchor in the scorching sea.

"I-I couldn't breathe, so I took off my chestplate - stupid of me - and then...Puffy was in the room. She was on the floor, and I smelled blood..." He shut his eyes, picturing the scene. "And _Dream_ was there...standing over her. He was...he was _talking_ , but I couldn't understand most of it."

"And?" Puffy prompted, tilting her head with concern balancing Phil's reassuring expression.

Ranboo stared at her wool, then let his eyes flick down to the hand hugging his own. "Then all of a sudden, I was outdoors and it was raining. People were talking, but...none of it was making any sense. I think I heard my name a few times."

* * *

_You're not real._

* * *

~~_Ranboo stood by the side of three Butchers, axe in hand. He was afraid, but this was something that needed to be done._ ~~

~~_Technoblade would stand trial. There would be justice._ ~~

~~_(He should have known._ ~~

~~_He didn't know._ ~~

~~_He should have known that there would be nothing fair about it._ ~~

~~_He should have known that there would be no trial._ ~~

~~_He should have known that there would be consequences.)_ ~~

* * *

_Then who are you talking to?_

* * *

Puffy and Phil exchanged glances. Edward chirped by the fire.

"So you don't remember?" Puffy asked cautiously.

Ranboo looked up at her, then flicked his gaze away the second he met her eyes. "I, uh... Remember what?"

The adults exchanged glances again, holding a silent conversation that Ranboo loathed to realise he was the subject of.

"R-remember _what?_ "

She took a deep breath and spoke: "Ranboo, you teleported."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's that time again, folks, for another POV change!
> 
> To clarify some things that may not have been clear:  
> -Dream's Siphoning enchanment gives him regeneration in exchange for giving Technoblade poison. Damage isn't directly transferred, but the more Dream heals, the more poison Techno gets in his system. This goes for pretty much every buff Dream gets: strength vs weakness, haste vs mining fatigue, night vision vs blindness, speed vs slowness. Techno is having the opposite of a good time, but Dream was careful to make sure that his life wouldn't be in immediate danger - Techno dying would break the enchantment, after all  
> -Life and death follow more or less the same rules as the canon Dream SMP, in that most people (Phil excluded) get multiple canon lives. Puffy took one of Sam's lives in their fight, but he's still got two left.


	10. Did You Hear Me Cry Out, Lilia, Lilia?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's difficult to put the pieces into place.
> 
> Something needs to be done.

_**There's a spider crawling up my shoulders.** _

* * *

"Techno's in the prison, isn't he?" Ranboo said. "That's what you and Dream were talking about, in that room."

"I..." Puffy sighed, wilting at the reminder. "Yeah. Layers of obsidian, mining fatigue and Sam guarding the place. It's impenetrable," she declared, dejected.

Ranboo's lips pressed into a thin line as he thought, slowly culminating in a little nod as he slipped his hand away from Phil's comfort. "Then we've got everything we need to break him out," he decided, folding his arms to keep himself from crumbling apart.

Puffy stared at him with a dawning realisation that soured into rejection. "You...you want to _teleport_ in there?"

He nodded some more, affirming the decision to himself more than anyone else. "If I can figure out how I did it the first time, then I can do it again."

"You can't be _serious_ ," she scoffed, looking to Phil for support and finding nothing but considerate silence. "You didn't even _remember_ teleporting; you were catatonic for literal _hours_ afterwards; and you were already incredibly stressed when it happened the _first_ time. Even if it's possible, there's no way it's _safe_!"

"But it's exactly what we need!" he countered. "All I'd have to do it get inside, grab Techno, and get out. No mining, no fighting - if I do it right, they won't even notice Techno's out until we're long gone."

Puffy shook her head, arms folded. "It's too risky. Dream _saw_ you teleport the first time. For all we know, he's prepared defences-"

"What _defences_?" Ranboo asked, exasperated. "What could he possibly do to stop me?"

" _I don't know_ , Ranboo. I don't know what he's capable of - I don't know how he fought off a dozen guys at once, or how he regenerated without potions or apples, and I _don't know_ what he could do to you! I'm not letting you put yourself in that kind of danger-"

"It's not your _choice_ , Puffy!" Ranboo yelled, standing, shaking. "It's _my_ ability, not yours. I _want_ to use it, because I don't know how else to help - I'm not strong or smart like you and Phil!" He uncrossed his arms in order to rub his neck - it was beginning to itch.

"You shouldn't have to help," Puffy placated, speaking with sweet tones and holding out her hands to demonstrate that there was no threat. "You're still just a child."

"And Techno's still a _person_ , who doesn't deserve to be stuck in a prison cell. Maybe you don't realise that, because you still think of him like some _weapon_ or something..." Ranboo turned to Phil, who was being uncomfortably quiet. "Tell her! Tell her we have to go save Techno!"

Phil was seated, hands folded underneath his chin as though he were pondering heavily something that should have been simple. He was Technoblade's closest - perhaps _only_ \- friend. If anyone understood how important it was to rescue him, it'd be Philza.

"No," Phil said. "Puffy's right: it's too dangerous."

* * *

~~_It was nothing._ ~~

~~_There was nothing outside._ ~~

~~_It was probably just the wind, or an overzealous husk._ ~~

~~_Ranboo's eyes refused to close, and his ears refused to stop listening to every single shout of the wind, every creak of his simple shack. Maybe he just needed to write something down, get it out of his mind and onto the paper. He sat up, out of bed, and searched for his book._ ~~

~~_Ranboo saw the footprints, young enough that the snow had not yet disguised them, that trailed all the way up to Technoblade's door._ ~~

~~_Shadows flickered in the windows._ ~~

~~_He approached Technoblade's cabin._ ~~

* * *

"You...you can't... He's your _friend_."

"You think I don't know that?"

Arguing with Puffy was stressful. Puffy and Phil _both_ teaming up on him was painful.

"You think I _want_ Techno to be locked up in Pandora's Vault? I don't, Ranboo," Phil said, "but I'm also not an idiot. I know an impossible task when I see one."

"But if I can figure out my powers, than it won't be impossible-"

Phil swiftly cut him off, standing up as well. He was shorter than Ranboo, obviously, but that didn't make him any less intimidating. "Dream told Puffy where Techno was - or near enough, he let her figure it out. He didn't have to do that. He could have pretended Techno was far enough away we'd never find him. Did he do that out of the kindness of his heart?"

Ranboo clenched his fists. "So he was bragging-"

"He was _baiting_ , Ranboo. To what end, I don't know - but he had a _reason_. If we fall into his trap, we're dead."

"So - what - we just _leave_ him to rot? That doesn't make any sense-!" He spun again, now seeking to appeal to Puffy rather than whatever irrationality Phil was high on. "Didn't you come here looking for Technoblade specifically? If we don't save him, then it was all a waste of time!"

"I _want_ to save him, but I can't let you use a power none of us fully understand-"

"I'll learn to understand! I'll practice-!"

"Puffy didn't come here for Technoblade," Phil sighed, putting a hand on his face. He looked exhausted. "She came looking for _help_ , for her cause. Techno's out of the picture, but that doesn't mean there's no help."

Puffy turned to the man, eyes wide. "Y-you mean you'll...?"

"We'll take a look at the situation," Phil said. "Ranboo, whether you join the fight against the Eggpire or not is your decision, but going near Pandora's Vault is off the table. Do you understand me?"

Ranboo turned to Edward, who was simply staring emotionlessly as the whole conversation went down. The enderman was deaf to the situation. Puffy and Phil had both forbidden him from helping Technoblade.

(It _wasn't their choice_.)

"That's not _fair_ -"

"I'm not abandoning him," Phil swore, and Ranboo didn't believe it one bit. "I'm just not willing to risk you as well."

* * *

_**Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up-** _

* * *

~~_"Hey there," Dream greeted, Technoblade's arm slung over his shoulder like someone would carry their injured friend to safety._ ~~

~~_(But he was dragging Techno away from home, not towards it, and it didn't make sense-)_ ~~

~~_"H-hello..."_ ~~

~~_Dream shuffled closer, leaving Technoblade's glistening golden boots to drag thin lines in the snow as the appearance of his mask grew larger, more suffocating. "Wanna help me out here?"_ ~~

~~_"I-I...I d-don't..."_ ~~

~~_"Come on," Dream chuckled, craning his neck to admire Technoblade's unconscious face beside his head, "we're all friends here, aren't we?"_ ~~

~~_"Wh-what did you do...?"_ ~~

~~_"Maybe I poisoned him." Dream's mask snapped back to stare Ranboo down. "Maybe I tricked him. Maybe I killed him. It doesn't matter what explanation I give: you're not going to remember it."_ ~~

~~_Ranboo took a step back, but the distance between himself and Dream did not grow. "Why...?"_ ~~

~~_"Because you're sleeping," said Dream, speaking directly into her ear while still facing him from across the snow. "All of this? It's just a nightmare."_ ~~

~~_"Y-you're lying..." Ranboo took another step back._ ~~

~~_Dream tilted his head. "Then why are you already helping me?"_ ~~

~~_There was no suddenness to the weight that filled Ranboo's arms. It had always been there. Technoblade lay in his hands, and through the Artic cold, Ranboo could not tell if there was warmth left in his body. "N-no..." He was walking - marching - without knowing a destination. Following instinct, the same way he knew where to place the blocks of earth he lifted._ ~~

~~_"Thanks for all the help."_ ~~

* * *

"Ranboo?"

"Hey there."

Ranboo offered a weak smile down at the boy who was petting at least seven dogs at once, while twenty more clambered to get closer to him. "You feeling better, big man?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, sheepishly. "Sorry if I, like, _scared_ you or anything-"

"Don't even worry about it!" Tubbo grinned, bright and warm like the Sun. "I'm just glad you're alright now."

Ranboo nodded slowly, kneeling down to join the kid in scratching under the gleeful hounds' necks. "So...Phil really stuck you out in the doghouse."

"Mhm..." Tubbo hummed in agreement. "I think he's still mad about the whole Butcher Army thing."

Noah pressed his nose into Ranboo's palm. "That's not really fair... I mean, he doesn't have a problem with _me_ about it."

Tubbo chuckled as one of the dogs licked his palm. "It's not the same thing, though, not really," he shrugged. "Besides, I like hanging out with the dogs! They're all so cuddly!"

"You know that's the same Hound Army that Techno used to attack L'Manburg, right?"

Tubbo blinked, looking around at the dogs. "Really? I thought there were more of them." He continued to scratch their necks, undeterred by the metaphorical blood on their paws.

"Well, lots of them got killed in the fight," Ranboo sighed, "so that's probably why."

"Oh yeah. That makes sense." Tubbo nodded. "Makes a lot of sense."

Ranboo pulled some streak out and offered it to Noah, who joyously gnawed into it. "So how are you feeling about the whole...everything that just went down?"

"Pretty sad," Tubbo confessed, keeping his eyes on the dogs rather than on Ranboo. "Tommy and I promised we'd both come back, and well..." he trailed off, and took a deep breath. "I got one of the discs, though! Tommy and I each grabbed one while Dream was distracted by you guys - but I don't know if Tommy managed to get his in an ender chest before Dream caught him."

"That's...that's good," Ranboo tried. "I mean, about the disc, not about Tommy-"

"Thanks for showing up." Tubbo shifted from kneeling to cross-legged. "It was looking pretty bad when it was just me and Tommy against Dream. He's kind of scary." The last sentence was whispered conspiratorially, as if Dream's combat prowess was a tightly-kept secret between friends.

"Yeah," Ranboo agreed, voice equally low. "I've heard he's pretty strong."

"Yeah, a bit."

Ranboo tilted his head. "Are you okay out here?" Sure, Tubbo seemed to be enjoying the dogs' presence, but it wasn't the warmest place.

"It's a little bit chilly, but I don't mind too bad. Not like I can go inside, anyway."

"You could sit in my house, if you wanted," Ranboo offered. "Phil doesn't want you in Techno's place, but he can't kick you out of my little shack. I don't have a fireplace or anything, but..."

Tubbo perked up with the words. "Really?"

"U-uh, yeah!" Ranboo nodded. "I mean, it's the least I could do after you and Niki came all this way to bring me to Phil... Hey, where did niki go, anyway?"

Without even pausing to think, Tubbo answered, "Oh, she's hiding from Puffy. In your house."

"Oh," said Ranboo, dumbly. "Why?"

"Dunno," Tubbo shrugged, standing up. "I thought those two liked each other, but they're not really talking."

Ranboo stood up as well. "Maybe girls are just weird."

"Yeah, that's probably it."

* * *

~~_The L'Mantree was burning, and framed by the fire was the small, trembling figure of Niki._ ~~

~~_No, not trembling. Shaking._ ~~

~~_Shaking with anger that took root deep within her bones._ ~~

~~_The ground was shaking, too, splitting open with the blasts of withers and TNT rain. The ground broke open, leaving exposed that which lay beneath: a raw and vulnerable crater._ ~~

~~_Ranboo hoped that Niki didn't become a crater like L'Manburg._ ~~

* * *

"You know, you could have asked to come in, and I'd have said yes."

Niki shrugged. "I knew you would say yes, so I didn't really need to ask."

It was a little cramped, with Ranboo, Tubbo and Niki altogether, but it was better than the bitter cold or the doghouse. The landscape prevented any strong winds from coming in. Tubbo, for his part, made some room by immediately flopping onto Ranboo's bed. "Finally, something soft I can sit down on!"

Niki rolled her eyes. "Puffy definitely would have given you a piggyback if you'd asked for one. Her wool is much softer than a bed!"

"For real?" Tubbo whined. "Aw, missed opportunity."

"S-speaking of which, uh..." Ranboo scratched the back of his neck. "How...how come you're avoiding her?"

Niki blinked at Ranboo, before becoming suddenly and overwhelmingly engrossed in her task of potting an allium on top of his crafting table. "I'm not avoiding anyone. I just didn't want to bother her and Philza while they were trying to help you."

"Oh, o-okay," Ranboo said, not entirely sure if he believed her. He itched to put his thoughts down into the memory book after such a long day, but he couldn't risk pulling it out with these two nearby. "Uhm, th-thanks, by the way, for coming all this way to help me out."

Niki smiled at him, looking almost sweet if not for the prominent bags under her eyes, and the substantial pain behind them. "All I did was follow Tubbo's lead."

"Hell yeah! I'm an expert navigator!"

* * *

~~_Ranboo stared at Technoblade through the bars, glancing up every few seconds at the anvil suspended over his head._ ~~

~~_This wasn't right. This wasn't fair. This wasn't justice._ ~~

~~_This was his fault. This was all his fault._ ~~

~~_Quackity was making some speech about retribution. Philza was watching from the front of the house he was confined to. Ghostbur was smiling, like nothing was wrong._ ~~

~~_Ranboo should have been afraid - and he certainly was - when Punz came out and laid the TNT, but most bafflingly, he felt relieved that he wouldn't be responsible for Technoblade's execution today._ ~~

~~_Then Quackity dropped the anvil anyway, and time stopped._ ~~

~~_It broke over Techno's head, alongside the golden figure beaming in his hand. Technoblade climbed out if his cage, using the remains of the very anvil that had tried to crush him, and fled._ ~~

~~_The Butcher Army had failed._ ~~

~~_Ranboo let out a breath._ ~~

* * *

_**It bit me on the neck.** _

* * *

Ranboo kept his distance, as the adults poked around the Blood Vines of what had once been central L'Manburg. He was trying to pay attention - he really was - but the closeness of Pandora's Vault was burned into the back of his mind. Technoblade was nearby.

"When I was under its control, it was like...it was like all I wanted to do was protect it, or look at how nice and pretty it was, or show other people how much they'd love the Egg if they got close to it. It smells so rotten to me now, but back then it was like the best smell in the world."

"That sounds...terrifying," Phil commented, poking at the vines with his pinky finger.

Puffy nodded. "It wasn't scary at the time, but in retrospect..." She shuddered. "It talks sometimes, too. Not out loud, but right inside your head."

"What does it say?"

"It's like..." Puffy sighed. "It plays into your desires - sounds all childish and vulnerable, wants you to protect it. I don't know what it sounds like to Bad and Ant, but it's definitely persuasive. You definitely shouldn't listen to anything you hear from it - and no matter what, don't get too close to the Egg."

Ranboo heard whispers coming from the Vines, but he said nothing. He couldn't make out what they were saying, so it didn't matter. They kept talking over one another, speaking too softly to get out a single concrete word.

"It was just me and Sam opposing this thing," Puffy scowled. "Now, I don't even know where _Sam's_ allegiances lie. If this thing gets to me again, there'll be no one left to oppose it." She slashed through the Vines as she spoke, emphasising her hatred of them. "Bad and Ant are still my friends. I may oppose them, but they're not acting on their own free will. I need to _help_ them."

"I understand," Phil said solemnly. "This Egg... It's dangerous. If we don't deal with it, there's no telling what might happen."

"Does that mean...?"

Phil nodded firmly. "Let's get to work taking it down."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come one, come all, I'm handing out FREE ANGST


End file.
